


Among Other Names

by Sar_Kalu



Series: A String of W.I.P's [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daleks are awful, Gen, Harry Has Lost Everything Trope, Mentions of the Time War, Multiverse, Post - Hogwarts, W.I.P, everyone dies, not finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sar_Kalu/pseuds/Sar_Kalu
Summary: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace....Harry Potter has lost everything since the walls between worlds melted away and his universe was attacked by aliens in dome-like constructions shooting green light. Now he's on a different world, in a different universe... and he may very well lose everything he has left...





	1. Fighting the Good Fight

_I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race and I have kept the faith_.

-Timothy 4:7

 

It is said, according to the ancients, that each person is born with a destiny, that your destiny is chosen through fate and bound to the tapestry of life; where each thread is woven amongst others and each play a part towards a greater whole. 

 

There are some whose destiny is not controlled by fate, however, these people are rare and few, able to shape their destiny and path, diverging from what is expected and pre-decided; in one universe there once was a race of these beings known as the Lords of Time, beings who saw, cared for and watched over Time itself; immortal guardians of their universe, their purpose was corrupted by war and tragedy.  

 

In a parallel universe the role of caretaker was given to a much younger race – the Wizard’s; but as the young so often do, they lost sight of their purpose and charge. Their lives, longer lived compared to their non-magical (muggle) counterparts, were far from mortal; also succumbing to the plague of war and ruin as the universe watched unendingly watched on. 

 

Among these universes there were two who were different; one was called the Doctor, the last of his kind - the holder of the Time Lord's wisdom; the Doctor lost and lonely in the universes expanse, no stranger to loss, pain and hatred, having lived many lives and knowing many things. The second was named Harry Potter; a boy who was no stranger to fate, chance or destiny. 

 

Harry Potter and the Doctor were alike and as different as a sparrow to hawk. Fate, in her benevolent wisdom, saw fit to bring the two together as both universes teetered and trembled upon the brink of a knife...

 

**xXx**

 

Harry was no stranger to war; he had been fighting since his eleventh summer, weariness in his every bone. The battlefield was bleak and bloody, the overcast sky adding to the morbid scene he observed with a practised eye. Beside him, his godson, Teddy Lupin, stood firmly in his defiance, Harry had argued extensively that the thirty something year old was too young for war and terror; forgetting as he did so, his own story and life. The field ran red, while his green eyes stared in a wearied acceptance as he picked his way through body parts and the glazed staring eyes of death. Already crows and pigeons had begun to circle above the decimation, waiting for the wearied battalion to remove themselves from the field of war, and their chance to feast. Behind the horizon Harry knew that London burned, the muggles had called down terror upon their heads, and aliens had covered the sky in a black swarm, blotting out the sun while they rained hail and warfare upon the peaceful planet’s head. Earth was scarred beyond ruin and Harry knew their days were numbered.

 

"Uncle Harry," Teddy interrupted his godfather’s thoughts warily; it wasn't wise to startle any of the older generation, hexes rested too easily and readily upon their cracked and chafed lips.

 

Harry spun, his wand moving upwards in a smooth motion only to be lowered once more as he stared at his godson in shock and surprise; he had forgotten Teddy was there. "Teddy?" He asked, staring at that beloved and familiar face, stared into tight hazel eyes that shone with too much sadness and despair.

 

"It's James." Teddy said his voice tight with emotion.

 

Harry stared around and came to a rest upon his eldest son, the usually mischievous hazel eyes wide with pain and horror even in death. James Sirius Potter, named after his father and godfather, two men who had given their lives in payment for his own. Men who had fought the good fight until the last, laughing as they did so. Men who did as he ought to, laying their lives down so his son didn't have to. James would have been twenty-five next month, his wife of two years was expecting their second born; Harry II was only a year and a half. So much death, too much, the scent clung to his nostrils and burned his eyes, choking his throat and clogging it until all that came from his mouth were distressed gasps.

 

Teddy had backed away, respectfully giving Harry the room he needed to cling to his son and grieve. Lily and Albus would be devastated, and Ginny, who still grieved for her elder brother Fred, thirty years after his death, would be inconsolable. But it was Harry that truly arrested Teddy's eyes, the man who had fought so long and so hard to bring peace and acceptance was crying like a new-born babe at his mother’s breast; the rawness of the grief, the keens and cries that spilled from his lips tore at Teddy and he knew that he could never understand the loss Harry was experiencing, nor did he want to. The idea of seeing Remus or Dora prostrate upon the ground, sightless eyes staring upwards, was enough to cause chills to run up and down his spine; and Teddy couldn't help but breathe thanks that it wasn't his children, flinching at his thoughts as he did so.

 

"This has to end." Harry said finally, breaking through Teddy's thoughts and silencing any protests he might have had.

 

Teddy nodded and followed Harry as he bore his burden without protest, the young man in his arms still and silent with this hazel eyes staring upwards sightlessly at the empty grey sky. 

 

**xXx**

 

Albus stared at the computer screen, his green eyes unseeing as he rubbed a pencil between his fingers. It had been mere hours since the attack had been announced on Cornwall's coast, already he knew that the deaths had skyrocketed from the thousands to the millions. It had been a combined strike upon England, America, India, The Netherlands and Germany. If the threat was to believed, America, Australia, Japan, Indonesia, China and Russia were scheduled for tomorrow morning. It was chaos and devastation. No one was safe; somehow, the aliens could see through notice-me-not charms and disillusionments. Shockingly, his father, Harry Potter, had survived the clean ups and hit and runs that he had organised along with Teddy, James and Uncle Ron. Albus wasn't sure how much longer such luck could last though.

 

"Al, what are the stats?" Rose Weasley asked her voice prim and proper as she stared down at him, her brown hair bushy and wild even as an adult. 

 

Albus shuddered and coughed lightly. "Dead: three million and rising; India and Cornwall haven't reported in. And there are numerous injured. They won't be tallied until the dead are counted." 

 

Rose nodded briskly and wrote the numbers upon the parchment in her hands, her brown eyes, so like her mothers, stared in frustrated worry at the computer screen as she and Albus watched the death toll rise at a steady rate. "This is so wrong, what have we done to these people that we must die for it?" She asked.

 

Albus shrugged slightly, he didn't know, nobody did. The terms were simply: surrender or die; but no chance to truly surrender had been given. The muggles were beside themselves; while the wizarding communities were simply struggling to survive. "I don't know." 

 

The doors to the facility burst open as Hugo strode in, his dark robes billowing out behind him and his face was grave and pinched. Immediately Albus knew something had gone terribly wrong, mentally flicking through where everyone in the family had been stationed, he drew a blank at his father and James. Harry was never stationed anywhere, as part of the rapid response team he was usually in half a dozen places by breakfast, let alone at dusk as it was now. But James, James had tried to tell him of his new post last night, he had been excited Albus remembered, command, James had said, of twenty men and women. 

 

Hugo reached them, his mouth open and working at speaking, and when he did it was a harsh croak where no words were discernible. "J-"

 

"James is dead." Albus stated coldly, his eyes burning behind his round glasses. His throat was tight and he didn't know why.

 

"Don't, Al, don't say such things!" Rose scolded her voice shrill.

 

Hugo reached out gruffly and gripped Albus' shoulders and his eyes were over spilling with tears. It was true; Albus could see it in Hugo's watering eyes. Albus stood, slowly and carefully, because he knew that if he didn't he might shatter in a million pieces; crumbling like dust between a child's incautious fingers.

 

"No!" Rose begged voicing her denial.

 

Albus staggered away from his cousins, his eyes staring from the clear glass windows out over Canary Warf; London was burning. The trees melting into carbonised puddles of grease and mud; men, women and children running screaming from the death and destruction that followed in their wake in flashes of green and blue, there would be no salvation for them. It was too late now, Albus knew that, had always known that. The hazel eyes of his brother swam before his own wavering gaze, and Albus dropped his head into his hands. Outside the wind howled and wailed as people died, and the overcast skies opened up as the world cried and all the while, London burned.

 

**xXx**

 

Harry and Teddy entered the Burrow together, behind them upon a stretcher covered in a black shroud lay James; Harry's son had been healed of the rents and tears that had marred his handsome features. Eyes were closed in peaceful repose, and it appeared, for the entire world as though James was merely sleeping and would wake at any moment to shout and laugh once more. But Harry knew that his eldest son would no longer scream with joy as he plummeted from impossible heights upon his broom, nor would he laugh as he and Albus snuck from Lily's room after covering it with glue and feathers again. Ginny stood at the stovetop, her thick red hair streaked with grey and lines creased her eyes and forehead, beside her stood Hermione, bushy brown hair turned completely white and her hands were crippled from arthritis too early for her fifty years. 

 

Ron sat in his armchair beside the chessboard that he stated in his usual irritable way, that he had held since he was twelve years old when he had beaten everyone else in the Weasley household three times each in chess to become the undisputed chess master. Across from Ron, playing (and losing) to the younger once-redhead was Percy. George and Fred II were playing with Harry II on the floor while Lily and Molly were discussing hairstyles that were currently in fashion in France. It was a typical scene for the end of a day, even in times such as these it was often hard to think that anything was wrong when the family was all together and laughter reigned. The chatter ceased when their presence was noticed, and Ginny smiled welcomingly, only to falter at the sight of their grave faces and her smile wobbled. Harry was glad that Arthur and Molly were five years passed; neither would have survived the loss of their charming grandson who had acted without a care in the world when he was a boy. Harry felt his heart ache.

 

"Harry, honey, what's wrong, did something go wrong at Cornwall?" Ginny asked hesitantly, and Harry could almost see the war that occurred in that brilliant but fragile mind of the woman whom he still loved after nearly fifty years. "Was it someone we knew?" 

 

"I'm sorry," Harry found himself whispering. "I tried my best but I couldn't protect him. Oh Merlin Gin, I'm so sorry." 

 

"Harry, Harry baby, no, don't do this to me!" Ginny said as she walked forwards, her brown eyes searching his own. She wiped her hands upon her apron and as she moved towards her husband, Teddy stepped aside and Ginny's movements faltered once more at the sight of that black, black shroud.

 

"I'm sorry." Harry whispered once more as he followed Ginny's gaze to their eldest son neatly lain upon the stretcher and shroud. It couldn't be more obvious what had happened.

 

"James? No, James! Not my baby!" Ginny wailed running forwards and launching herself at Harry, barrelling into him and sending them into a tangle about James' body. "James, baby, Jamie, wake up for Mummy, Jamie baby, wake up for Mummy!"

 

"Gin, Gin, James is gone, I'm sorry Ginny, but James is dead." Harry said hollowly, his eyes burning in their sockets.

 

"No!" Ginny repeated, yelling.

 

The rest of the family gathered around and Harry felt as though he was an animal in a cage, being stared at with grave fascination and regard. Foreign and dangerous he felt trapped and sequestered behind a cage of glass. His breaths came in pants and Harry forcibly calmed himself down, panic would help no one and least of all his fragile wife. Ginny had been so strong but with daily reports of death and destruction she had withered away like a summer rose in the cold of winter. It had been hard on everyone, and even Hermione, aged beyond her years after a life of service in the ministry, was unable to cope with the constant battle and strife. Only he and Ron managed a semblance of control, and even they faltered under the strain.

 

"Ginny, he's dead!" Harry snapped his own voice rough with loss. "I have to go to London; I have to find Albus and Lily."

 

"I'm here Dad, but Al, he was in London..." Lily went unheard as her Uncle cut across her.

 

"London's destroyed, Harry!" Ron said angrily as he stared down upon his nephew, eyes uncomprehending.

 

"Dammit Ron, those are my children in there! Rose and Hugo too!" Harry barked, jolting Ron from his stupor.

 

Ron stared at him, his expression horrified. "Rosie was in Manchester." He said, denying Harry's words. "Hugo's in Leicestershire along with Fred, Owen and Louis."

 

Fred II shook his head numbly; his voice quiet between Ginny's howls and sobs. "No, Al, Rose and Hugo were reposted to London in the wake of Manchester's destruction last Friday; Along with Lucy and Roxy."

 

"Lucy?" Percy gasped his face whitening. "Not my little Luce."

 

Molly and Lily shuddered and clung to each other, James dead; Albus, Rose and Hugo were unaccounted for; how much more devastation would strike their family?

 

Harry finally spotted Lily and pulled his youngest into a tight hug. "Oh, Lils, thank Merlin you're okay. Stay here with your Mum and Uncle Percy; take care of Gin for me, yeah?" Harry stared into his daughter’s eyes frantically. Lily nodded in silent agreement, knowing it would be useless to argue.

 

"Ron, you’re with me." Harry then stated as he swivelled his gaze about the room. "George, you know London best, we could use your aid." 

 

"Angie and Roxy work in the lower levels, I need to find them." George said by way of agreement, his blue eyes icy in their sockets. He was a man starved of his twins presence and now his family was threatened, one nephew lost already; it would be a cold day in hell before George Weasley let his other nieces and nephews fall without trying to catch them. He certainly didn't envy Harry, he at least had grown up knowing a loving family; Harry had built one up from the ground only to watch it be snatched from him in an instant. "I'm with you Harry, always have been."

 

Harry nodded in thanks and gathered his meagre force, vacating the Burrow once more. The fields were green and bore no resemblance to the battlefield he had left behind earlier. Teddy strode at his left shoulder, Ron at his right and George bringing up the rear. Harry was impressed with his godson, Teddy had no training for war or terror, and he wasn't even an Auror. Teddy had opted to follow his father’s footsteps and become a teacher, although his ability in potions had indeed influenced that decision and when he was twenty-two had completed his mastery and become Hogwart's youngest professor as well as, pipping Severus Snape to the point by six months. Hogwarts was ruins now; it had been one of the first places attacked along with Oxford, Cambridge and the military bases around Britain. The hazy light of dusk had turned the fields golden and the clouds had broken away to reveal a shy blue sky turning a blushing pink as the sun sank to the west. Harry turned to George and Ron and nodded once and the quartet apparated out with a crack.

 

**xXx**

 

The alien craft were lowering themselves onto the ruined streets, great potholes peppered the roads and cars crouched in smoking ruins upon the sidewalks. Albus stood above it all in his ministerial building, Rose and Hugo at his sides, and had someone walked in they might have mistaken the trio for a very much younger Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione Weasley. But the days of the golden trio were over, Hermione crippled after a lifetime of cramped writing and crunching numbers, and Ron and Harry too battle hardened to need much help from a bookworm, their knowledge gained through blood, fire and ash. Behind Albus crouched and trembled his colleagues, each one white-faced and terrified, only Scorpius Malfoy, Rose's long time stalker was of any use, his wand outstretched and teeth bared as he surveyed the area for any and all threats. Daphne Malfoy, Scorpius' younger sister, named after her long dead aunt, lay at an unnatural angle at his feet, her neck snapped after the last craft blew through the room, engines whirring and guns blasting taking half the population of the room with it as it crashed and burned spectacularly into the lower floors. Albus didn't know what had happened to the people below, and he suspected that they were dead, dying or trapped. He didn't really want to speculate either; it was far too morbid, even as he watched the world burn below. 

 

"Al, we have to get these people out." Rose was saying, her voice anxious as she inspected the room. Rose was a researcher at heart and had little stomach for the death and destruction encircling her.

 

Albus turned slightly, his green eyes piercing her from behind the thick lenses obscuring his face. "And lead them where, Rose? Downstairs? They will die here or there, it hardly matters which." 

 

Hugo winced and bit his lip, two years younger than Rose and Albus, Hugo was having a far more difficult time understanding the devastation of the streets below and the deaths that had previously been only numbers on a screen, shoved under his nose and stinking of burning flesh and the coppery tang of blood. Albus supposed it was remarkable the twenty year old hadn't chucked up already, but then, Hugo always had resembled Uncle Ron strongly, and had even now a calm, if devastated expression upon his face, willing to follow Albus where he led, simply because Albus spoke sense. 

 

Rose stared at Albus shocked beyond belief, never in her knowledge had Albus Potter, son of the Boy Who Lived, ever given up. Sorted into Ravenclaw, to the complete shock of his parents, Albus was the pinnacle of Slytherin ambition tempered by Gryffindor good-heartedness well rounded by the Ravenclaw book-smarts that often got him into trouble as he more often than not let his mouth run away before his brain could catch up. And now here was the self-same Albus Potter standing before a clear glass window, his eyes and posture the very picture of defeat and dismay as he stared at her so sadly.

 

"I'm sorry Rose, but there is nothing I can do." Albus said, suddenly looking very like his namesake as he stared at her with those sad-old eyes, head bent in defeat as he admitted his own failure; much as Albus Dumbledore had done when confronted by Draco Malfoy over forty years ago.

 

Rose felt a wave of despair and sank to her knees, her tweed skirt pulled tight over her knees as she crouched at Albus' feet, seeming like a supplicant before her king, begging for mercy and compassion. "Albus, please." She whispered.

 

"For god’s sake man!" Scorpius snapped, abandoning his vigil over Daphne's body to stride the three short paces to Rose and trying to haul her to her feet. "Have some compassion!" 

 

"What would you have me do? We have less than ten minutes before we are flooded! Compassion? I barely have time to organise a defence of the people I was sworn to protect!" Albus shouted angered, one hand sweeping to encompass the room with his statement. Scorpius let Rose go, his face whitening. "My cousins are downstairs, my brother was at Cornwall and my father and Uncle are on clean up duty. What can I do but go down fighting as best I can."

 

Scorpius sagged, understanding Albus' position. "Until the very end." He said hoarsely, understanding that he would not walk from the building alive, and he staggered away back to Daphne once again; his mind, for once, not on Rose who had collapsed to the floor once again.

 

"Up on your feet, come on." Hugo said to Rose. "Don't give up, not yet."

 

"Until the very end." Albus repeated, tightening his grip on his wand, and his words were repeated by the dozen other voices that, in understanding their predicament, stood and stepped up, shouldering the burden that only they could bear.

 

The doors burst in and aliens poured in, looking like bronze salt and pepper shakers hell bent on their doom and Albus was reminded of a bee as they buzzed and chattered away, hating mindlessly. Wands swept up and eyes hardened in determination. Towards the west the sun dipped behind the horizon as voices roared: "UNTIL THE VERY END!!" 

 

**xXx**

 

It was decimation, the building dripped with blood and none of the four, who had appeared so very suddenly in the alleyway a quarter of a block away from the ministerial building that Albus and Rose worked at, thought that they would find anyone alive within. Harry jogged up the flights of stairs, the elevator inexplicably hanging by a thread from the third floor window. Each floor became progressively messier, and had Harry had time to stop and gawk he no doubt would have gained enough material for months of nightmares; as it was, it was all Harry, Ron and Teddy could do to not vomit from the stench of congealing blood and rotting and torn flesh. The aliens clearly had some kind of liquid that sped up the speed of decay and death in their victims, and George was unsure if this was a blessing or a curse for those whose lives were lost.

 

"May they rest in peace," George muttered as he stepped over a body of a blonde woman, her grey eyes frozen wide in shock, her head caved in and masonry nearby told the story of her demise.

 

Ron grunted in agreement, his long legs carrying him over a boy of nineteen, an intern; a boy who had been looking for experience before stepping into a position at the Ministry. _Well_ , Ron thought sourly, _he certainly_ _found_ _it_. 

 

"This way." Harry said, ducking through a doorway and nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of his son still alive in the corner of the room. Ron's cry of despair didn't even penetrate his fugue of relief, so greatly did he feel it. "My son, oh my son what have they done to you?" Harry asked as he patted ineffectually at his sons bleeding sides and hazy green eyes, so like his own, stared up at him.

 

" _I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race and I have kept the faith_ until the very end." Albus slurred drowsily quoting the muggle bible and smiled at his father in relief. "It is your turn now, James; you have to carry the torch. Tell Dad I tried; tell Uncle Ron I'm real sorry 'bout Rose an' Hugo. I tried." 

 

Harry let out a choked sob as Albus' eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the final sleep and the next great adventure. "You did fight the good fight, Albus, and I am sorry, I should have been here to protect you."

 

George and Teddy stood in shock, half the family was down and neither Ron nor Harry, two men who were the strongest they knew, appeared able to continue. After conferring with Teddy, George loped out and back downstairs towards the basement, wanting, no- needing to find out what happened to his own daughter, Roxanne and his niece, Lucy. It took him less than thirty minutes to traverse the shaky floors and masonry that lay about treacherously awaiting a stray unwary foot. Roxanne was easily spotted; she had Angelina's dark brown hair and his own blue eyes, eyes that were filmed over in death. Beside her, clinging to her body lay Lucy, shocked hazel eyes, so like Audrey's, stared at him in silent recrimination. Angelina wasn't far away, she had decided to visit Roxy and Luce for lunch, take them out for something special and let them forget the horrors of the past month; she hadn't even made it to her daughter’s side before she had been cut down like hay before a scythe. George felt his heart break and crack under the strain, he couldn't deal with this, Roxy had saved him from his depression after Fred had died, and then his son had increased his desire to live while Angie knew him better than even his own mother. What could he do without them? For the second time in his life, George Weasley contemplated taking his own life, forgetting in his despair that his son was alive and well and grieving the loss of his cousin and needing him back at the Burrow.

 

**xXx**

 

Ron halted in shock at the boundary of the Burrow, his blue eyes lit by the hungry flames that licked the sides. He and George had been relegated the task of bearing the bad news to the family, and now the past twenty four hours claimed them. The Burrow, a haphazard pile of wood and stone was aflame in an unnatural way; Arthur Weasley had ensured that devastation could not touch his home or family, the strongest wards that Albus Dumbledore himself could manage and now, like London, like Rosie and Hugo, the Burrow burned in fires hotter than hell. George stumbled drunkenly at his side and stared in mute horror at the sight. Then, together Ron and George sprinted forwards, forgetting all about the devastation in London, the dead and buried; far too preoccupied with the screaming that came from the building. Ron and George were so absorbed by the horrific sight that neither spotted the beeping, rolling, chattering and mindlessly hating shapes until it was too late. Hermione cried out wordlessly from where she stood entrapped in the burning house, her nephew and niece clinging to her arms as she shouted for her husband to save her only to watch as the aliens cut him down in front of her.

 

**xXx**

 

It was over, Teddy knew it, ten minutes to get a breath of fresh air and destruction had rained from the skies. Wordlessly, Teddy stood in silent defiance as the aliens encircled him, their strange bodies whirring mechanically and gently as they stared down upon him from a height too far to kill and far too close for comfort. All around him the streets and cars smoked, and clouds of steam and ash drifted gently in a non-existent wind; the human and magical races had lost, and the aliens with their pitiless blue eye had won the planet that they had burned. Teddy sighed in resignation, knowing when he was beaten and quietly repeated the words Albus had disclosed before he died. _Muggles weren't so bad when you thought about it_ , he mused as his brown eyes flashed gold and his hair changed to a brilliant red, suddenly the living personification of his parents in the moment of his death.

 

" _I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race AND I HAVE KEPT THE FAITH,_ UNTIL THE VERY END!! _"_

 

**xXx**

 

Above Teddy, Harry stood in shock and horror; watching his godson shout Albus' last words in defiance, the motto burning itself into Harry's soul, and watched the boy who he had raised from a toddler die fighting as his parents had. Spells and explosions rocked the foundations of an already unstable building; and Harry bared his teeth as grief welled once more. Knowing he had little time left to live, Harry knelt once more at Albus' side. The aliens would be here soon, it would be his turn next and like Teddy, like Albus, like James, Lily, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, his father, his mother, his godfather and like so many others that had died in the wars, he Harry James Potter would go down fighting the good fight, until the very bitter end.


	2. Life After Death

" _It's a god-awful small affair / To the girl with the mousy hair_

_But her Mummy is yelling "No!" / And her Daddy has told her to go,_

_But her friend is nowhere to be seen, / Now she walks through her sunken dream."_

David Bowie - _Life On Mars?_  

 

Death, Harry had once been told as an impressionable and naive seventeen year old, was as easy as falling asleep. Not really one to dispute such things, having never experienced it for himself; Harry was understandably confused when, after having most assuredly been shot dead by a hate-filled, psychopathic pepper-pot, he found himself awakening to a field of green covered in red poppies. Above him clouds swirled lazily in the golden light of morning and Harry felt oddly at peace. After nearly a year of being surrounded by near-to-constant death and destruction of everything he had known and held dear; it was a kind of relief to be alive and well, regardless of the new mess he had apparently found himself. 

 

 _Potter luck strikes again_ , Harry mused to himself as he took a brief moment to take in deep calming breaths of clean, fresh air; unpolluted as it was by that horrific mixture of mud, blood and smoky haze. Sitting up, Harry stared around himself and sighed in sullen defeat. Alone in a city centre somewhere in the world; Harry staggered upright, muscles protesting the abuse and stared around at the people around him who began to laugh or scream. Swivelling about, Harry couldn’t see the cause until it belatedly occurred to him that he might be the cause. Harry looked down at himself with trepidation and hastily covered his apparently naked backside, ignoring the cuts, bruises and lacerations that covered his thin, underfed frame. 

 

" _Scusa, stai bene_?" A woman asked in what he guessed must be Italian; her voice lilting as she stared at him in concern. " _Hai fatto a cadere? Hai capito?_ "

 

Harry stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What?" He asked uncertainly.

 

" _Do you need help? Did you fall?_ " She repeated in what he could only assume to be Latin, except that it sounded odd; as if this woman’s Latin was not actually Latin but instead... something far more different and alien.

 

Harry knew immediately that he was in trouble; he could understand her words vaguely, as if they were similar but different in an undefinable way. Harry could only assume that the woman was actually speaking a variation of English, because there was no way that she would be speaking _Latin_ ; even if it did sound similar. No, there was something very odd going on here and Harry was suspicious of the entire set of circumstances of _dying_ and then waking up, completely _alive again_. Admittedly, it wasn't the first time this had happened, but last time Harry had a very good excuse for _not staying dead_! 

 

It was ridiculous, Harry concluded. Languages not making sense, the entire world being put to rights after months of alien warfare... It was like a bad science fiction movie... Harry felt his face drain of all colour. Science fiction... Surely not? Even if he was likely to label the whole situation to be completely impossible, what where the chances of another world having a city that looked exactly like the Rome on his world? Only this Rome hadn't been melted into a puddle of carbonised sludge; but then again… there had been talk of the Department of Mysteries researching strange, inexplicable things… maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as lost as he felt? Maybe?

 

"I can't talk to you in whatever language you’re speaking; obviously I'm not from around here." Harry informed the woman carefully, making no sudden moves as he made the universal gesture of 'I'm unarmed and harmless'.'

The woman reached out and touched his side briefly, her expression concerned. "Come with me." She said in what Harry could only guess to be a strange variant of English once again and she led the unresisting Harry from the strange field that he had awoken in. She gave him her coat that covered him, if not decently, enough that he wouldn't be immediately arrested. His apparent presence had drawn more than a few curious looks and Harry almost felt like cursing.

 

Looking around once more, Harry recognised the ruins of the Roman Forum in Rome, Italy; how he had ended up here was beyond him as he had never been to Italy in his life. Indeed, he only recognised it from the photos that Hermione had taken from her and Ron's second honeymoon. Ginny had wanted to visit France and Spain, so naturally, that was where they had ended up. 

 

The strange but kind woman took him to a local hospital, and Harry found himself stitched up and tended without local anaesthetic as no one could determine whether he was allergic or not and besides, he had barely uttered a grunt of pain as the needle and thread had slid through the flaps of skin with neat efficiency. The Doctor and Nurse slipped from the sterile room, concern written upon their faces as they left to confer with the woman who had found him about his state of health and mentality. 

 

Harry stared down at the borrowed clothes he was wearing, a pair of too large trainers and corded grey track pants under a black tee-shirt and padded vest of green and red made up his outfit. It was garish and Dumbledorean, but it was enough, at least until he escaped back home. 

 

**xXx**

 

With a single focused thought, Harry left with a crack, leaving three very confused Italian's behind him. Harry arrived in the middle of London, his green eyes stunned at the pure brilliance that was lower Oxford Street and Charing Cross Road at dusk. The sky was a dull bruised purple and the sun streaked the sky a brilliant gold and orange, strange for the hazy summer days he was expecting. A bitterly cold wind snapped at his heels, driving him swiftly down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron; which wasn't there. Harry stared dumbfounded at the toys store that occupied the place of the very famous pub. Confusion etched upon his features, Harry disapparated once more, disregarding the Statute and landed in the moors of Scotland where he found himself staring at a ruinous castle where Hogwarts ought to have been. Desperate, Harry left once more, this time landing in the middle of a lounge room, surprising three young children with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The Burrow had disappeared, it should have been where he stood, but instead the children sat in the living room of a middling sized house; greatly confused, Harry stared at the children in shock.

 

"It's Harry Potter!" The eldest cried, his gap teeth causing him to lisp slightly, an open book on his lap.

 

Harry baulked, _how did they know his name?_ and disappeared once again. 

 

Harry landed in London once more and he staggered into a local pub, haggard and filthy. The interior was the quintessential British pub, dark wood tables and chairs, a round bar well stocked with spirits, glasses and ales, and a sharp eyed bar tender watching over her patrons with care.

 

"Oi, you can't come in 'ere, mate." The bar tender shouted over the ruckus of the karaoke machine. "We don' like yo'r type." 

 

Harry frowned at that, what did he mean his type? And found himself ushered back outside again. Shivering with cold, Harry wandlessly cast heating charms as he staggered down the road, where was his wand anyway? Everything was gone, the Burrow, the Leaky Cauldron, Hogwarts; wherever he was, magic was clearly no longer alive and functioning in the same way that it had back home. Above him smog clouded out the stars wheeling above his head and Harry stared down the street no longer certain about what to do. 

 

**xXx**

 

Grimmauld Place would never change; it was still occupied a courtyard of brick houses in the Victorian style, with lintel windows and doors, brass knockers and tall thin faces that towered above the street four floors up. Number twelve was abandoned, the windows blacked out, and broken, the door hung of its hinges and swung erratically in the breeze; but none of this mattered any, because for Harry, it was shelter and available for use. Carefully picking his way across the dusty, leaf strewn floor, Harry used his hand in lieu of a wand to _vanish_ the debris and _conjure_ a four poster bed with bright red hangings and rampant lions upon the thick, red, down filled quilt. It was very Gryffindor. 

 

With unhurried movements, Harry moved around the house and warded the room and house. Cleaning up as he went; sweeping his hand in great arcs, Harry soon had the living room, dining room and kitchen in a habitable state. The dining room had an old heavy wood table, scuffed and marked by years of use and neglect; while the kitchen was bereft of anything usable at all. Deciding that he had done enough for one evening, Harry undressed and climbed into the bed he had made. There would be time enough tomorrow to figure out what he would be able to do.

 

**xXx**

 

The thing with magic is that while it is more than able to fix, clean, hide and generally allow any wizard or witch to just about everything they might desire, it does not allow said wizard or witch to vanish a paper trail after enchanting a house. And so it was that Brooke's Realty found themselves in an unfortunate predicament where they had paperwork, an address and a buyer but no house in which to sell. Eventually it was written off as a practical joke and apologies were made all around. No one from Brooke's Realty bothered to ask the general population of Grimmauld Place, London, just where Number Twelve had disappeared to, as they would have quickly found out that the mystery was a lot bigger than a mere practical joke. 

 

Indeed, on the morning of June twenty one, 2010, the entire neighbourhood of Grimmauld Place awoke to find that Number Twelve had simply upped and vanished. Which is very queer behaviour for any house and there was a rush to blame aliens, thieves and the Government in general, with no one bothering to notify the council of London. And so it was for the next two years the mystery would go unanswered while the population of Grimmauld Place found that they were soon the unfortunate beneficiaries of a young man who begged and pleaded for 'release' and often asked if anyone knew where 'they' were. Just who these 'they' were, no one bothered to ask as it was no concern of theirs and really, what kind of release did this beggar want anyway? It was all very strange and wrong in their affluent minds and the problem was soon put from their heads as they went about their busy, daily lives.

 

Martha and Mickey Smith were normal, everyday people, born to loving parents and belonging to strong welcoming families; both were very happy and normal as could be. But both had a secret, a deep and dark secret that was talked about over a bottle of wine on days when odd things happened. When spaceships appeared and people died, when wars were fought and people lost and gained, when a name was whispered in the dead of the night by those who knew of his existence: _Doctor_. 

 

Martha Smith was a middling woman of middling height and above average countenance; Martha's job was very ordinary, Martha was a doctor, but the organisation that she worked for wasn't at all usual. U.N.I.T.; which stood for 'United Nations Intelligence Task-force' and was planet Earth's number one defence line against alien invasion along with Torchwood. Mickey also worked for UNIT, only he was a mechanical engineer and one of the more talented field operatives that UNIT had under their command. 

 

Two years after the inexplicable disappearance of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Martha and Mickey Smith moved into Number Eight, Grimmauld Place and very quickly noticed the absence of number twelve and were soon regaled with the strange tale and warned of the crazy man begging for 'release' and asking where 'they' were. For Martha, such a tale smacked of an alien cover-up and very quickly dragged her reluctant husband on search for the shady character that was the local beggar. Two days later, neither Martha nor Mickey had found the man who everyone said was around _somewhere_ and were becoming increasingly suspicious of the beggars motives. Martha had even gotten to the stage of carrying the little black phone on her person that would easily contact the Doctor should she need him. By the end of the third day, Martha was close to giving up and Mrs. O'Grady from Number Three was watching her with that expression that said all too clearly that she wasn't sure all of Martha's wheels were running in the same direction.

 

"He will come out when he's ready, it's been very cold the last few days and even beggars have good sense." Mrs. O'Grady said finally, interrupting Martha's contemplation of the pavement. 

 

Martha sighed. "I just want to help him find who has he lost!"

 

"No one knows who the poor man has lost, dear, we only know that he keeps asking for release and if we have seen them and if we know where they are, where they've gone." Mrs. Lewis from Number Two said sadly. "I don't think the people he's looking for are..." Mrs. Lewis trailed off and shook her head tiredly.

 

Of all the people who lived in Gimmauld Place, Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. O'Grady felt the most pity for the poor lost beggar who was nameless and usually inspired feelings of disdain and disgust amongst the other members of the neighbourhood. Only Mr. Lionel was any different; Mr. Lionel felt, as an old war veteran from the Korean War that the beggar was a lost soldier and the people he cried for were his lost battalion that he had outlived. But then, Mr. Lionel liked to reminisce over the wars he had fought and the days he had lived as a member of the R.A.F. Martha was unsure if Mr. Lionel was right, but she suspected that he might have something correct, if not the entire story.

 

"I know, but it's driving me crazy, what release is he speaking of? Because I don't think he means it like Mr. Hall says." Martha admitted gravely. Mr. Hall was a lecherous old man who would tell anyone who listened that the beggar was a mean young man who would make off with any of the respectable boys or girls of the neighbourhood and have his wicked way with them. Martha had never heard anything so ridiculous, often having trouble understanding how people could pay attention to such nonsense.

 

Mr. Lionel stumped down from his front stairs and joined the small gathering outside Mrs. O'Grady's house at number three. Mr. Lionel shared Number Five with his youngest granddaughter, a young woman completing her degree of bio-engineering at Southwark University and the only other resident who spared any thoughts for the young beggar who haunted the street she lived on. 

 

"You think like I do that he's asking for the release of death." Mr. Lionel stated in his gravelly voice, years of yelling at raw recruits had given him the timbre of a chain-smoker and the volume of a Field Marshall. 

 

Martha nodded sadly in agreement, her eyes picking out Mickey's car as he pulled up at their house. "I do, I've met veterans before who suffered from extreme survivors guilt, enough that they asked anyone who would listen to give them the release from the suffering."

 

Mrs. O'Grady let out a small gasp and dabbed away a tear with a lacy handkerchief. Nearing seventy, Mrs. O'Grady was a stately lady who liked to believe the best of everyone and often told anyone who would listen about her long, and dear departed Albert who had been the best of men. Mrs. Lewis was the removed wife of a recovering alcoholic and abusive husband; she was very shy and timid rarely going further than Mrs. O'Grady's house for tea on Fridays. It had taken Mr. Lionel, the old, grizzled war veteran, to encourage her to go to the police and report her husband’s behaviour nearly ten years past. Mr. Lewis was still in prison and was close to finishing his eleven year sentence without parole. 

 

"Oh the poor dear, and Sarah and Donald were telling me that he was a good for nothing layabout." Mrs. O'Grady sobbed dramatically, and Martha exchanged glances with Lionel, each agreeing that Mrs. O'Grady was a very silly woman who knew very little of life at all. Sarah and Donald Macmillan a young couple were very prejudiced and weren’t all that accepting of those around them. Neither would give you the time of day even if you begged on your knees, it didn't surprise Martha that Sarah had been rude about the young man who begged for coins and release.

 

"Martha!" Mickey called out as he jogged up the road, drawing the gazes of the women and man who stood idly chatting about the problem of the neighbourhood.

 

Martha accepted Mickey's hug gladly, giving him a small kiss upon his lips and smiling up at him with pleasure. "Hey Mick, how was work?" 

 

"Work was good." Mickey said nuzzling Martha's cheek, he loved his wife dearly and loved to hug and hold her whenever he was able. "But that's not why I'm here; I've seen him: the beggar. He's just around the corner at Number Thirteen; he's crying."

 

Martha frowned in concern and allowed herself to be pulled away from Mrs. O'Grady and Mrs. Lewis while Mr. Lionel followed her and Mickey with a stern expression upon his grizzled face. It was time to get some answers.

 

**xXx**

 

Harry collapsed on a bench that occupied the small park between houses nine and eleven in Grimmauld Place, his face was wet with tears again, it was often so hard to maintain any ability to function when so much had gone so wrong in his life. It hadn't been so bad, but then he'd finished cleaning and fixing up his old home... Then it had come crashing down like a ton of bricks on his head. Harry let out a moan of pain as the sight of his sons bodies floated through his mind once more...

 

A scrape of a foot against the pavement had Harry tensing and looking about wildly and his darting eyes alighted upon a trio of people who stood not too far from him. It had taken him six months to teach himself this places version of English and he had found that he was equally quick to pick up Chinese, Bangladeshi and Arabic. So he would easily able to understand and converse with the people who stood so casually before him; it was just a matter of, did he want to?

 

The first to speak was a woman who wouldn't look out of place in a white lab coat, her brown eyes were soft and compassionate as she regarded him. Harry felt bile raise up in his throat as another's face swam before his eyes, replacing the strangers face with that of his best friends.

 

"Hello, do you need help? We've seen you wandering about and you look lost." She said, her voice was soft and gentle so as to not startle him. Harry appreciated the effort.

 

Harry twisted his head listlessly, eyes evaluation the men who flanked her so calmly, their eyes in turn assessing him. The first was clearly the woman's partner, they held hands and his stance was more than protective, it was possessive as well. The other was a man who was above fifty, his grey hair winged with white and his blue eyes were clear and he stood balance upon his toes. Both men were warriors and had belonged to an army of some kind.

 

"Who are you?" Harry asked in accented English, his own voice a soft baritone.

 

"My name is Martha; this is my husband Mickey and our friend, Lionel." Martha answered gently. "And you, do you have a name?"

 

Harry shrugged slightly, he did, but they didn't need to know it. His name wasn’t important. "I'm not lost. At least, I shouldn’t think so."

 

"You’re not?" Martha asked carefully, wondering at his statement. Why wouldn’t he give them a name? Surely he had one? "Perhaps you can tell us about yourself then, because you look lost and very alone. Maybe we can help you find who you’re looking for." 

 

"You can't. They're all gone. I've searched and searched but they aren't there anymore." Harry said sadly, his green eyes heavy with weariness and fatigue. He closed them slowly, uncaring if they hurt him anymore, he deserved it, he had failed to protect his sons and daughter, his family were gone.

 

"Who's gone?" Martha asked, curious and worried. What had happened to this man? This young-old man who was so lost and alone, far more so than the one whom she had travelled with. Even the Doctor wasn’t so sad and lonely.

 

"Them; you don’t know them at all. Coz they’re all gone now." Harry stood, swaying to his feet and he found himself towering above Martha and he blinked in shock. She seemed so much taller before, when he’d been seated; or perhaps it was because he felt so defeated and small while she clearly belonged here and was stronger than he. 

 

"Who is gone?" Martha asked, backing away slightly from the man who was shockingly tall, towering above her. Mickey gripped her shoulders carefully, his dark eyes never moving from the so-called beggar who was yet to be named. "What is your name?"

 

Harry shrugged. "You are a soldier. I was a soldier once, they said we won the war, but they never told us what we lost."

 

Lionel blinked in shock; he knew that feeling, that all-encompassing despair. The boy was in far more pain than he had seen before, PTSD struck down even the heartiest, hardiest of men and this boy was so sad, so defeated and so lost and lonely that Lionel found himself biting back tears, hoping beyond hope that the youth would find his home once again. "You will find them again, lad, it does get better."

 

Harry nodded a constant bobbing of his head that made him look ridiculous and sad at the same time; his green eyes overlarge in his overly thin face, cheekbones sharp beneath his skin. "It doesn't matter anyway; they took my sons from me. They took my daughter too, I think. I can still see it, the City burned in a sky of grey and haze. Trees turned to greasy pools of carbon and ash and no one found their loved ones again because they were taken from them in a blaze of fire and death."

 

Martha and Mickey gaped, there had been no war like the one he described, and it only increased the feeling that this man was not from Earth and was far more lost and alone than even Lionel suspected.

 

" _I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race and I have kept the faith_ until the very end." Harry murmured. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, James and Albus, I never told you how proud I was of you, how much you meant to me." Harry shuffled off, leaving three people behind him, their hearts breaking for the man who continued to mutter and plead with the dead that haunted his every moment. Occasionally words drifted back to them and each time it was like a hammer blow to their understanding of the man himself.

 

"I never want to go through what that man has, I doubt there are many who have and are even half so sane." Lionel said sadly and he gravely saluted the retreating figures back in a kind of honour that only a military man would understand. 

 

Mickey nodded in agreement, "not many no, but we know of a man who has experienced worse and lived to tell of it. And I think it is time to ask his help."

 

The three left, walking away from the sadly muttering man who was now crouched over a leaf, his fingers plucking them up and then casting them away. And Martha wondered if there might be a metaphor in there somewhere, that the man was much alike with those leaves as the Doctor, because Martha knew that the next meeting with the beggar would be likely to cause him a certain amount of stress. 

 

**xXx**

 

"Doctor?" The voice on the end of the telephone was shocking for the newly regenerated Time Lord as he braced himself against the console of his TARDIS. He had never expected Martha to contact him again; he usually cut himself off from his past companions if he regenerated again. It was so hard, constantly saying goodbye, but it was better than saying 'I'm sorry' to a grave side. He hated endings.

 

"Martha?" The Doctor asked shocked. "Martha Jones?"

 

"Doctor!" Martha cried gladly, her voice happy and pleased. "Are you able to visit me and Mickey at this end of time?"

 

The Doctor mulled that over before agreeing quickly. He hadn't seen Martha and Mickey in years that Martha was calling him now suggested that there was an adventure to be had. Amy could wait one more day; because there was an adventure to be had with Martha Jones and Mickey Smith, and the Doctor did so love adventures.

 


	3. Cry, Till You Can Cry No More

_My hands are tied_

_My head is reelin'_

_My eyes have cried_

_A million tears_

_From wishin' you were here_

Kasey Chambers – _A Million Tears_

 

The wheezing and groaning of the TARDIS shattered the calm of the street and Harry lifted his head from where it had been pillowed upon his arms as he sat in the gutter. Green eyes widened in shock as a blue telephone box appeared quite suddenly in front of him. It wasn't the box that was unusual, although it was certainly not ordinary; it was the appearing act that shocked Harry the most. The past two years had been spent searching the world for any kind of magical proof and instead had unearthed a wealth of alien life. That magic was not real had been altogether depressing for the man, since aliens (of any kind) to him meant death and destruction, not the joy and exultation it did for Martha and Mickey. The box shuddered as it settled and fell silent in the late morning light; Harry leapt up and was about to flee when Martha and Mickey, the kind couple from last week, appeared laughing and joking with each other and opened the door with excited faces.

 

"You've died again, you stupid alien!" Martha scolded as she pulled a man from the box and hugged him tightly before shoving him at Mickey. "You look great."

 

Harry stared suspiciously; aliens were a cause for wariness in his books, not celebration. Perhaps neither Martha nor Mickey were human either, it wouldn't surprise him too greatly. This alien wore brown tweed and a ridiculous red bow tie, but Harry knew better to judge based on appearances, and thought that even if the alien didn't look dangerous, he probably was.

 

"Come inside, we have much to discuss." Martha declared and hauled the unresisting man into Number Eight and left Harry staring after them with cold green eyes. Harry had only one task left, kill the aliens before they destroyed life on this Earth, he would not allow it to happen again.

 

**xXx**

 

The Doctor allowed himself to be dragged into Martha and Mickey’s house; they had apparently gotten married three years ago after Martha's previous marriage had fallen through. Both were very happy and were distracted by a quick domestic where Martha bulldozed Mickey into making tea while she pulled out a small cake from the fridge and set it on a plate and served them all a piece. 

 

"So, what's the story then?" The Doctor asked once he had finished his cake. Martha and Mickey exchanged glances and bit their lips, clearly unsure of how to start. "Come on, it can't be that bad."

 

"The thing is, we aren't even sure what it is." Mickey said uncertainly. "We think its alien, but-"

 

"But not for UNIT?" The Doctor asked calmly, of course, he didn't really approve of UNIT and so thought them pretty useless to begin with; too many guns. The Doctor didn't approve of guns.

 

"No…" Mickey trailed off, his eyes flicking to his wife, once again unsure of what to say.

 

"There's this man, you see. He's homeless and he's suffered a lot. Mr. Lionel from number five thinks he was in a war, but the war the man described isn't any that we know. He described his city burning, of everyone dying." Martha said.

 

The Doctor had frozen, the words created images in his mind that were far too familiar, in his mind’s eye he could see the burnt orange sky with the twin suns burning, people screaming and for a moment his hearts ceased to beat. 

 

"Doctor?" Martha asked her lips twisted in remorse. 

 

The Doctor smiled once again, a cheerful grin that never showed the true battle within he fought daily. "Sorry, got lost within my mind for a minute there, it's a dark and dangerous place, my mind." He winked cheerfully and Martha blushed and grinned back, obviously thinking she was overly worried for the man who had saved far too many lives to count.

 

"There's a far more dangerous place waiting for you just around the corner, alien." A cold hard voice growled from the doorway. The Doctor spun around and nearly lost himself in those sharp green eyes that bore the mark of far too much loss, pain and destruction. A tall man, and thin, far too thin; the kind of thinness brought not from exercise or genetics but by an unwillingness to eat. That face had the haunted look his own had worn after the Time War, a look that did not belong on the face of a man barely thirty, with messy black hair and large eyes which only emphasised his apparent youthfulness.

 

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked, moving in front of Mickey and Martha, trying to protect them with his body.

 

"Your worst nightmare," the man growled his face fierce.

 

"I'm the Doctor, I can help you." 

 

The man jerked his head sharply and twitched his hand which was, the Doctor abruptly noticed, extended and tightly holding a long thin piece of wood, well-polished with use. "Do you tell people that before you kill them, or do you give them warning first?"

 

"Kill?" The Doctor asked faintly, confused.

 

"The Doctor doesn't kill anyone!" Martha protested, unable to remain silent. "He helps people." 

 

"Of course he does." The voice was heavily sarcastic and cruel. "That's what they all do; help you find death in the most painful manner."

 

The Doctor shuddered and extended his hand slightly, his face concerned. "Please, let me help you. What are you?"

 

"I'm a human, or I was once. I'm not from this Earth though." The man admitted, convulsively tightening his grip and flexing his hands upon that piece of wood. 

 

"How is that possible?" The Doctor asked confused. "How can you be human, but not of this Earth, that makes no sense!" 

 

"I don't know." The man said carefully, his green eyes suspicious. "You ask a lot of questions, alien."

 

The Doctor smiled tremulously, he was never more aware of his ability to die than at that moment, it was like standing on a precipice that, should he fall, could very well end up with him permanently dead. There was something about this man that suggested he was as common as Time Lord's; which is to say, not at all. "I'm sorry for your losses, but-"

 

"But nothing, alien!" The man shouted, sweeping the hand holding that piece of wood sharply and sparks drifted from its end. Martha's eyebrows shot up in shock. "Your kind killed my family! My sons! My daughter!" 

 

The Doctor swallowed convulsively. "I can't have." He croaked, his voice rasping in his throat. Images of his own people, screaming out in his mind echoed tinnily in his ears and the fevered green gaze of the man before him seemed to burn with the light of a thousand suns. "I've never seen you before! I don't kill humans!"

 

"Aliens did, and I no longer care if you are different or the same, because you will die by my hand regardless. It is too dangerous to allow your lot to live! I will not let London burn again! The Earth will not burn again!"

 

The Doctor fell backwards, staggering back and collapsed into the chair he had vacated. His mind was filled with pictures, places he knew but didn't look right and a foreign presence was in his mind; shredding his walls like tissue paper. Pain filled his head, and the Doctor tried not to scream; the sheer anguish and rage the man projected upon him threatened to overwhelm him, and for whatever reason, despite the differences, the Doctor was close to losing his identity in the maelstrom of emotions and images that were shoved mercilessly at him. However this should have been impossible, there was no denying that the man was telepathic, and the Doctor was desperately trying to preserve his sense of self; the how of this strange man’s ability didn't matter, not in the wake of this destructive force. 

 

_A young man with hazel eyes staring blankly at the sky..._

 

_Another man with eyes as green as grass lay gasping words of apology and sacrifice to another man who was his elder twin..._

 

_A woman howling to the sky her grief showing her to be the mother of the dead boy she cradled to her breast..._

 

More flew into his mind, each one a passed sentence, each one collapsing at his feet with judgment for his 'crimes', and each image was superseded by his own people, his own experiences and for the first time, the Doctor felt all of his thousand plus years and bowed to his fate. The time for running, he wept head bowed and shoulders shaking beneath the iron gaze of the green eyed man, had passed. 

 

In the space of a few minutes the man in front of him had managed what the Master never had; the Doctor's spirit was completely broken, his soul was shattered and the man stood above him with a weary gaze, for there was no triumph in this victory. 

 

For Martha and Mickey it simply seemed that the two men, one with a red bow tie, their beloved friend, and the other, the ragged beggar standing above the Doctor like a king misplaced in time, had their roles reversed. Where the Doctor had been so assured and calm before, he now hunched at his conquerors feet, weeping with shoulder shaking sobs, while the 'beggar' stood coldly above him, eyes implacable and self-assured in his drive for justice and revenge.

 

"What have you done to him?!" Martha cried angrily, moving forwards to protect the Doctor as he had once protected her. Not even his time on the _Valiant_ had the Doctor despaired so, and Martha feared that her friend was truly broken and without hope. Behind her Mickey followed only to find his feet sticking to the floor as though he had just stepped into a vat of super glue. Before him the man with green eyes sneered coldly at him before swinging his gaze to Martha once more. Mickey felt a flickering of fear for his wife, and raised a hand to halt her and bring her back to relative safety.

 

"I have passed judgement, he has not refuted the crimes, and he will die." The man said tonelessly, his green eyes flat; the stick in his hand extending like it was a gun. The man stared at the weeping alien and wondered why his victory felt so hollow.

 

Martha gaped. "But he's only trying to help! If you would just listen to him..."

 

"No! The time for listening is past, now is the time for justice and action." The man said coldly, snapping his free arm out in a gesture of halt. Listening, where had that ever gotten him? Hermione was dead, Ron was dead, his children, his parents, his beloved wife... No, he couldn't stand to listen anymore! Why should he listen when others had refused to do the same? 

 

For a moment there was a flicker inside him, a remnant of who he had been before, but it was a fear quickly squashed and ignored.

 

"But this is murder!" Martha shouted, trying to get the man to see. She could see the hesitation on his face, though his eyes were still flat and cold. "You can't kill him! We need him!"

 

The Doctor stared at the ground, tears falling continuously from his tightly shut eyes, unaware of the argument occurring over his head. The man stared at him, weighing the prone man upon his knees and the woman who stood above him so protectively. Surely, maybe, just this once, in memory of the man he had once been, he could listen just this once; in Ginny's name?

 

"Why?" He asked finally, willing to listen momentarily, the remnant rearing its ugly head and imposing the sense of peace once more upon him. A bad man would never have people defend him. "Why do you protect him so fiercely?"

 

"Because he's saved lives, he protects us. He helps people." Martha explained helplessly, how do you put into words the Doctor's life work? How does one explain in ten minutes well over a thousand years of good and kindness?

 

The man frowned darkly, his world burning in his mind’s eye and anger swept through his swiftly as fire through a dry forest. "Then why didn't he aid us? Why wasn't this protector there when my world burned?"

 

"He didn't know!" Martha protested while Mickey was silent, staring between the three unable to help because he was unable to move; somehow he was stuck in place, one hand outstretched to Martha in fear. "How can he aid people he doesn’t know existed?"

 

Harry frowned once more; perhaps this Martha spoke sense, if so he had made a grievous mistake. Undecided, Harry contemplated the huddled figure of the Doctor and flexed his fingers, in the interests of true justice, he should find out all the facts. Martha watched the man nod slightly, a determined expression in his green eyes and in a fluid movement that spoke of years on the move, crouched to the Doctor's level. Harry fingered his wand as he stared at the Doctor's bowed head and in a swift movement, grasped the back of the time lords head, fingers knotting into that messy brown hair and yanked the Doctor's head up so Harry could stare into his eyes. As he pushed through the Doctor's impressive mental shields, so different and foreign to his own, Harry fell to his knees and in a parody of a lovers embrace, drew the Doctor against him, the tip of his wand unyieldingly pointed at the Doctor's temple. 

 

For Martha if appeared as though they just stared into one another's eyes, the Doctor's mouth gaping open in shock and horror at whatever he saw and experienced while the 'beggar' was implacably stern. Harry watched a thousand sunrises and sunsets in the Doctor's memories, watched the Doctor love, live and lose over and over again, watched the Doctor's world burn in a war so similar to his own; so much pain, fear, sadness and rage burned within this complex man; a man though he was alien. Of that Harry could not deny. Sighing heavily to himself and moving past the newer memories of the Doctor saving numerous cities, planets and people from everything that could be thought of, he stepped further backwards where a song could be heard. Many voice sung in unison, a word, a long, complex word that was so very sad and lonely, and Harry listened to the wordless melody that was sung so joyously, so sadly and knew that the melody was used to hide the Doctor's name; a name that would encapsulate this old-young man, his pains, his loves, his sadness, and his joys. Such a complex word unheard of by any ears but his own, and one Harry would be hard pressed to repeat with any degree of accuracy. Harry left the song behind, sliding between memories of a steadily increasingly dark nature until there was one before his that was black as night and darker than the pits of the inferno. Harry stepped into it and was immediately assaulted with the stench of death, burning, and the screams, not just physically, but mentally also. 

 

The Gallifreyan’s had been a telepathic race and they screamed their fear into the minds of those around them, and Harry was nearly crippled by the uncompromising, terrifying sound. Harry trembled, staring as the man he knew to be the Doctor step forth, rage in his eyes and death in his hand, killing without mercy as he walked. The Doctor cut a swath through the strange aliens that reminded Harry of his own night terrors, the aliens appeared to be pepper-pots; pepper-pots of death and destruction as they sent a bolt of green light at the Doctor, striking him through the chest and burning his clothing. The Doctor froze, anger in his face and with a wild, unnatural scream, he tore through the army with the last of his strength before falling to his knees and glowing golden in the forever-sunlight. There was a scream of fear and a youth; a boy ran forwards, a gun in his hand, protecting the Doctor as he regenerated. The boy was young, no more than twenty his scream echoed in Harry's ears wildly, and the Doctor, newly regenerated, turned to the sound and cried out in hoarse horror. The boy fell to a descending alien, his body burned even as he swirled with the self-same golden light and the Doctor's scream was unearthly in its rage and sorrow. Harry screamed with him, running from the memory, unable to take the fear, horror, guilt and loathing that came from the Doctor as he watched the boy die. The boy who Harry knew to be the Doctor's grandson, newly graduated from the Academy. Harry screamed as he ripped his mind from the Doctor's, jolting Martha from her vigil at their side.

 

While Harry trod through the Doctor's mind-scape, the Doctor stepped through the door that had been opened and was left unguarded, a link between both minds, for a brief moment the Doctor stood in the doorway watching the green eyed man framed against the council chambers of Gallifrey before plunging into the green eyed man's own mind. The man was old, older than the Doctor had guessed, dozens of sunsets and sunrises were seen through the perspective of green eyes, he flew above a castle, the castle burned; a snake-faced man, his features blurred, stood before him, murder intent on his face, a wild cackling, screaming, pain, fear, sorrow, rage, hate, happiness, joy, laughter all swirled through the man’s mind and the Doctor felt himself guided away from those youthful memories and towards the newer, brighter memories untainted by the experiences of the man’s youth. A babes cry, the tolling of wedding bells, the laughter of children; images swirled like brightly lit films, never staying in place long and among it all was a faint cry, like a name unheard by an ear going deaf, echoing through as though there was a long tunnel. 

 

The Doctor ignored the strangeness and stepped into a glitteringly dark memory and the stench of burning, gasoline, charcoal and death permeated his nose, so strong was this memory that the Doctor could barely hold himself upright under its intensity. He stood on a battlefield, the sky was over caste and the man with green eyes sat before a young man with hazel eyes, screaming his grief up at the uncaring sky as rain broke free and swirled around him. The Doctor sighed, turning his face away, he knew this feeling, knew what it was to lose everything you held dear; he turned away, unable to help; and stepped free of the man’s mind and stared into the green eyes that wept unashamedly from shame and apology. No words were spoken and the Doctor turned his face away once again, he knew what the man had seen, as he had seen the man’s dead son, so the man had seen the Doctor's children burning beneath the rage of the Darleks. The man knew the Doctor in a way that no other and, knew his shame, knew his pain and wept for him; even as the Doctor wept for the man.

 

"Oh god, what have I done?" He gasped, shakily cradling his head, fearing his own actions. "I swore to protect, I swore I would never, ever harm another unless it was owed." Harry shuddered and met the Doctor's drying gaze. "I can never apologise enough, it was not my place, what you have seen, what you have done..." Harry shook his head wordlessly, there were no words, and there was no way to say what they both felt. 

 

The Doctor shuddered and lifted his head enough to stare at the man who knew more about him than anyone, even the Master, previously had. A man who had lost and suffered as much as himself, if not worse because he had not brought the suffering down upon himself like the Doctor had, no, he had been helpless to stop the inevitable destruction of his planet and people. A door opened one way, could be opened the other, and the Doctor had used that opportunity to know the man who had invaded his mind in such a way that even his nemesis the Master never could. The man, whose name was as hidden as his own, was something new and inexplicable; because for all his attempts, excepting that first time, anything further back than the destruction of that parallel Earth was walled in mist and silence. If the Doctor didn't know any better, he would have thought that the man in front of him had no life before that war; despite evidence to the contrary.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." The Doctor murmured at the man, reaching out to grip the man’s shoulder. "I know; _I know_ what you feel. I've been there, and I am so, so sorry."

 

The man shook his head. "It is I that should be sorry, Martha was right, you only help." He staggered upright and backed away, hands held upright in surrender. "Please forgive me."

 

"I've been where you stand, let me help you." The Doctor pleaded, ignoring the plea for forgiveness, he understood what it was like to suspect everyone and desire vengeance so strongly that you couldn't think straight. The man needed his aid, far more than anyone else previously had. Amy could wait one more day.

 

"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't." The man said, fear and terror clouding his gaze before he flung himself from the room, the Doctor and Martha hot on his heels. Mickey sagged to his knees as the enchantment or technology holding him in place ceased quite suddenly. Muscles protesting, Mickey groaned as he forced himself upright and into a chair; let Martha and the Doctor figure this out, he was in need of a rest he wasn’t as young as he used to be. 

 

Outside, the Doctor and Martha had almost caught up with the man when there was a crack and he disappeared before their eyes. The Doctor skidded to a stunned halt, Martha right beside him.

 

"But that's impossible!" The Doctor said, stunned. “That should be impossible!”

 

Martha stared at the spot the man had occupied. "Doctor, where did he go?" 

 

"I don't know! He just teleported; which _should_ _not_ be possible at all!" The Doctor stated firmly, all traces of his previous breakdown had disappeared from his posture and expression, and he now stared around him with wary and excited eyes. "A puzzle; a very nice puzzle."

 

Martha watched in amusement as the Doctor ran into his TARDIS and back out again, a strange contraption in his hands. Tweed jacket flying behind him, the Doctor ran down the street and back again sweeping the pavement obviously looking for a trace of the man who had so suddenly disappeared.

 

"Mrs. Smith, what is that man doing?" 

 

Martha spun about and grinned at Stacy, Mr. Lionel's granddaughter, her school pack slung over her shoulder and her loose brown hair hung in a tangle to her waist.

 

"He's looking for the beggar man who was around here." Martha explained.

 

"Ah, grandfather said he was a soldier who lost a war." Stacy said uncertainly and smiled when Martha nodded in agreement. "Well, you won't find him until he decides to return. My father fought in the Falkland war and he would disappear for days on end when things became too much for him, but he always returned home eventually, because where else could he go?" 

 

Martha nodded in understanding and smiled brightly at Stacy. "Thank you." She murmured and spun to tell the Doctor only to see the TARDIS fade out again, clearly the Doctor had found something and was off on his own adventure. Which was fine, because Martha had her life here with Mickey and she loved it; she didn't need the Doctor anymore, besides, he would be back, like Stacy said, when you have nowhere left to go, home is where you're most familiar and for the Doctor, Earth was his home now.

 

**xXx**

 

The castle sat upon a cliff face, its sides ruined and crumbling like the memories in Harry's head and feeling in his heart. The now-familiar sound of wheezing and groaning heralded _his_ arrival and Harry ignored the creak of doors and the crunch of footsteps upon rocks as he watched the sun dip beneath the horizon in a flash of gold. 

 

The land was now grey and bleak, the grass dipping darkly in the evening wind while the wavelets lapped gently upon the rocky shore. Harry let out a heavy sigh as the Doctor settled beside him, they were both drawn up in similar positions, arms upon their knees, chins resting negligently upon their arms and eyes staring straight ahead at the shadowy monolith that had once been, in another time and place, Hogwarts Castle. Harry rubbed the Elder wand between his fingers; it had appeared quite randomly one evening pillowed on the invisibility cloak and the resurrection stone inlaid into a new band of gold. He wore the ring on his right hand index finger; the cloak was in his expanded jean pocket. Harry's far away eyes stared at the horizon as the last flash of gold signified the sun set.

 

The Doctor was the first to break the silence. "Why here? I followed you halfway across London, to Sussex and now here in Scotland."

 

"I was eleven when I first came here, the castle was lit up with a thousand torches and we rode in boats from the far shore to beneath the rocky overhang over there." Harry pointed his voice flat in the darkness and as he spoke he drew upon his memories to superimpose an illusion over the crumbling ruin before them. The Doctor's slight gasp was the only sign he was surprised and impressed. "It was twilight and as a child it was very awe inspiring. This once, was my school and my first home. That place in Sussex was where my wife's family lived, and London was where I first found my friends. You could say I just dragged you through my life, but in all honesty I was trying to lose you." 

 

The vision shimmered and faded once again, leaving behind the ruin like a stark reminder of all that he had lost.

 

The Doctor sat silently beside the other man, unwilling to talk about his own life but rightly guessing, that the other needed this. After all, the man knew everything important about the Doctor, everything important that he had been allowed to see that is; and the Doctor was now being told bits and pieces of the world the man had come from. A world so much different to the one they were on now, if Pete's parallel world was anything to go by. A world where children flew like birds, laughed, loved and played; a world that had been burned as Gallifrey had been and a world now lost to the man beside him. 

 

"We were brought before the school and divided into four, a whole but separate all the same. It was then that I was given my first family. We wore red and stood for courage and bravery; running away from your destiny was frowned upon and greatness was expected from all." Harry said softly, explaining his youth and apologising, in his own way, for stealing the Time Lord's memories.

 

The Doctor twisted his head around and watched the younger man breath in deeply and sighs heavily. _This_ _couldn't_ _be_ _easy_ , the Doctor mused.

 

"It is okay to grieve for what you have lost. Just don't let your loss consume you."

 

"That war, on your planet, you know what I saw, I felt you direct me. What happened, why?" Harry asked flatly, tiredly.

 

The Doctor sighed heavily once again. "It was called the Time War. The last great Time War that spanned across the ages and the universe. 

 

"My people, the Time Lords were arrogant in their age, sworn only to watch they ruled and observed everything; but with power such as we- they held, would be seen with increasing envy and anger by those who we scorned. We, who could help, fix and aid, rarely left our citadels; preferring to stand aside and let history take its course. 

 

"But the Time Lord's were challenged by others, others who were just as great and twice as cruel. We thought we only had one enemy, one easily beaten, but there were others, waiting for a chance; and so we fought and died; and I lost everything. 

 

"I was the only one who could stop it; in desperation I turned to our technologies and locked my people away with the beings who sought to destroy them. It was Gallifrey or the Universe, so while I saved the fabric of reality, I lost my world, my people, and my family."

 

Harry had no idea how the Doctor was still sane; such a choice between friend, family and home and the greater good, - _which really wasn't much of a choice at all in Harry's mind_ ,- would burn within him. Even now the Doctor still doubted his choice, for he was alone and very - _incredibly_ lonely. Those old-young eyes shone with the weight of ages; this man had seen things that Harry couldn't even imagine; and Harry was unsure just how he should respond to such an admittance. The Time Lord had committed grievous genocide against two races, if not three, and yet Harry was certain that the Doctor suffered far more from the weight of his own guilt than he could suffer if locked up in a high security prison.

 

"Truce?" The Doctor asked, knowing that should Harry refuse, any battle or argument between them may very well rip reality in half, and after everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed, he truly wasn't willing to let that happen.

 

Harry stared at the Doctor for a moment, searching through the darkness to look deeply into those impossibly deep, dark eyes. "Truce." He agreed finally, accepting the handshake and together they both stood and dusted themselves off, never looking at each other or at the TARDIS that stood behind them so silently.

 

"Come travel with me." The Doctor asked/suggested, straightening his red bow tie and staring pointedly at his ship before bracing himself to look at Harry once more.

 

Harry stared past his shoulder, as unwilling as himself to look the other in the eye. "No, not now; not yet." He refused and stepped backwards and with a wistfully sad smile, and disappeared with a crack

 

"Until next time then," The Doctor said to the empty air and returned to his TARDIS and he too disappeared, but not with a crack, but with a wheezing, groaning that brought hope to all who heard it. 

 

The now empty cliff top was draped in shadow and the trees below rustled with the evening wind while the stars spun overhead uncaring of the loneliness of the land or the strangeness of the past thirty six hours. Both the Doctor and Harry Potter had time enough between them to meet again many times over. 

 


	4. New Eyes, Old Acquaintances

_Now I’m lying by the river feeling lazy in the shade_

_Children shout and splash about in water where I played_

_And I’m thinking I could stay a while, maybe settle down_

_Been so long, since I’ve been around_

The Waifs – _Since I’ve Been Around_

 

Harry supposed that the wheezing and heaving that sounded so obnoxiously were his only warning to get the hell out of dodge and run from whatever hellish machine dared make such a sound. However, he was unsure he wanted to run from it though, it had been a long enough time since he and the Doctor had last met that he felt that, maybe he had judged the Doctor harshly, and maybe that the Doctor wasn't as bad as he had thought; and while he had no idea how long it had been for the other man since they had last met, let alone if the other man would welcome him along for the journey, the silence that surrounded him constantly now was becoming maddening and he needed an escape and a distraction. So should the Doctor offer for Harry to travel with him again, Harry would probably, most likely, maybe, definitely accept. 

 

The man himself exited in a giant bound with excited features and brilliant eyes, that dopy grin stretching that raw-boned face and lantern jaw. The ridiculous bow tie from last time was fastened around his neck although he wore a different suit which was charcoal grey and had tails. Hazel eyes alighted upon his own green ones and the suddenly bemused expression on his face was immensely amusing for Harry, as he was sprawled in the sand in a pair of black board-shorts that was his only covering on his otherwise naked body.

 

"Oh, hello," The Doctor said slightly stunned, eyeing the bare and well defined chest that was far more filled out since the last time he had seen the green eyed man, whose name he still didn't know for all that he had played around in the other man’s head. "Why are you on the floor practically naked?" He asked curiously having missed the sun, surf and sand around him.

 

"If you weren't an alien I might wonder if you were checking me out." Harry said in amusement, no longer threatened or angry about the Doctor's presence. Too much had happened and too much time had passed for it to truly affect him any longer. Perspective gained and eyes wide open and all that rot.

 

"Ah, well, yes." The Doctor said awkwardly, tearing his eyes from Harry's practically bare frame.

 

"As for why I'm lacking in dress, this is the beach, in the middle of Greece, and you're the one who looks odd." Harry stated calmly and the Doctor immediately peered around him and noted the bemused glances he was receiving upon the state of his dress.

 

"Ah, ah," He stammered nervously. Harry cracked a slight grin and the Doctor pointed a finger at him severely. “Shut up!”

 

"For a thousand year old alien you're really not very confident are you?" Harry noted blandly and reached up and tugged the man down beside him. "Good, you're no longer in my sun, although your box might be in around half an hour or so." 

 

The Doctor blinked at the treatment he was receiving, like he was an acquaintance that the man was familiar with, and while not particularly welcome was willingly tolerated for proprieties sake. The Doctor pulled his shoes off. Thinking a bit more as he undid his bow tie, the Doctor admitted privately that the amount of time that had passed on both ends had probably been a bit off, for him close to three years had passed and he was unsure how long for the man who lay so unconcernedly beside him; and while he might be alien, he wasn't above noticing that the man really was very good looking. Not that he was noticing or anything like that, he wasn't Jack, you know, he was above that sort of thing. Still,-

 

"You think too much. Sit still and relax." Harry murmured and reached out once more and grabbed the back of the Doctor's collar and pulled him flat on the sand and pinned him there with remarkable strength.

 

"Right, sorry." The Doctor muttered, wriggling slightly in the hot sand trying to get comfortable. The sun really was very nice, a nice sort of warmth and not too harsh. Really, it was just about perfect for any person to just lie and relax in.

 

**xXx**

 

Very quickly the uncomfortable pair relaxed enough in the late sunshine to doze off and fall into a relaxed slumber. When the Doctor awoke some hours later, the man had disappeared once again and left him on a nearly vacated beach at dusk. Groaning slightly, the Doctor sat up and dusted the sand from his shirt and looked out to sea. The Mediterranean wasn't as rough as the Atlantic or Pacific and the waves gently crashed against the beach while the sand was a particularly dark gold, turning black from pollution. A crack heralded the man’s reappearance and he bore fish and chips in one hand and two pints of light beer on the other.

 

"Thought you might be hungry," He said negligently as he sat down and handed a glass to the Doctor.

 

"Thank you." The Doctor said pleased and genuinely touched that the man who had every reason to dislike him would think of him enough to feed him. 

 

"Welcome." Harry mumbled and yawned slightly. "Apparating that far took it out of me." He muttered and rubbed his eyes.

 

The Doctor smiled in amusement at the very Harry Potter description of the man's teleportation. "You know, you never told me your name." 

 

"Neither did you, you simply told me a title that may or may not be yours." Harry muttered in reply and shrugged slightly tearing open the paper that the fish and chips were wrapped in. That title, 'the Doctor' was probably the first and only warning that the Doctor would never tell the whole truth, if ever. Harry had a feeling that the Doctor was an accomplished liar, not from design, but from necessity. _Necessity makes liars and killers of us all_ , Harry mused philosophically.

 

The smell of vinegar and salt assaulted the Doctor's nostrils and he had reason to suspect that the food wasn't local at all. A fact confirmed when he spotted the English newsprint and a sip of the beer confirmed that the drinks were from Germany. _Talk about bragging about his power and abilities_ , the Doctor thought in amusement. "I have a name, but humans aren't able to pronounce it well, besides which it loosely translates to Doctor in English." It was a lie, but he wasn't going to tell the truth, not to a man he barely knew at any rate. River had been different, River had _known_ him.

 

Harry hummed noncommittally and popped a chip in his mouth smiling at the salty, tangy taste. The Doctor followed his example and ate a piece of fish and hummed in appreciation, it had been a while since he had eaten fish and chips, not since Amy and Rory in fact. Clara had preferred to try new things, and River had hated most Earth foods, they reminded her too much of bad times.

 

"So what should I call you then?" The Doctor asked, knowing that the man would simply divert him again if he asked for a name.

 

"Viridian."  Harry said calmly. Viridian meant 'green' and suited him enough that it wouldn't cause comment like any other name he could have chosen. He knew enough of this world that Harry Potter was a story for children and magic from fairy tales. No, Viridian was harmless enough to not cause too many eyebrows to rise in amusement or disbelief, besides, the Doctor knew it wasn't his true name and wouldn't enquire further simply because he knew better.

 

The Doctor smiled at the reference, the man’s eyes truly were a startling shade of green and the name did suite him enough. What his true name was, well it hardly mattered and would probably hurt Viridian to ask. 

 

"If I asked you to travel with me now, would you say yes?" The Doctor asked nonchalantly, sticking two more chips in his mouth. He could almost feel the grease and fat hardening his veins as he ate. Not that it could truly affect him; Time Lords were above such problems, too far advanced biologically.

 

"I might." Harry said carefully. "But only if you allow me the chance to leave whenever I desire; I suspect that my crossing dimensions has changed me physiologically enough that I won't age normally."  As if his age wasn't far greater than it appeared anyway, Harry thought his ninetieth birthday would be coming up soon, and he barely looked to be over twenty-seven.

 

The Doctor felt his interest spark at that noncommittal and off-hand comment. But there would be time enough to figure it out, the Doctor was certain that he could get Viridian to stay long enough that it might become permanent or at least continuous enough that he wouldn't have to fear being quite so alone anymore. So naturally he agreed: "Of course."

 

Harry smiled, guessing the Doctor was lonely enough to try and trick him into staying with him. The man didn't realise that Harry was slightly more powerful than he had been when they first met, something he suspected that was due to his age and would indeed increase with his age. But then, it had been a while since they had last met and he hadn't half aged like he was supposed to. As to why, he wasn't entirely sure.

 

"Well, come on then." Harry said, shoving the last chips into his mouth cheerfully. 

 

The Doctor grinned and led the way to the TARDIS. "After you," he said cheekily, wondering what Viridian's expression and exclamation would be like, after all, Viridian wasn't like his other companions. But then, neither had been Clara a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind, but Clara was impossible, much like Viridian and the Doctor didn’t know Clara and anyway, she was such a long way away.

 

Harry shot the Doctor an amused glance and stepped through the doors and paused slightly at the sheer size of the inside of the TARDIS, it was hardly what he was expecting, but then, he had owned a tent the size of a mansion in his previous life, so it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it’s like before. 

 

"Where are we off to then?" Harry asked, perching on the chair that stood beside the console.

 

The Doctor pouted theatrically and inexplicably. "What, nothing about the interior?" He asked hopefully.

 

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. "It's hardly different." He shrugged. "I've seen some weird things from technology, and you keep saying that you're more advanced than humans, why should I be surprised? After all, I assume the metal and configuration is necessary for flight."

 

The Doctor felt his usual smug bubble of happiness pop from Viridian's nonchalant answer, he hadn't even registered the size instead the decoration had been what he'd commented on, or rather, assumed about. The Doctor wasn't even certain what he had expected, but it hasn't been the blasé attitude presented to him. 

 

"So, where are we going?" Harry asked, interrupting the Doctor's pouting disappointment. "Have I disappointed you?" He asked in stunned confusion.

 

"What? No, I suppose not. I probably would have been disappointed had you been surprised by the interior, but I do like the exclamations of shock and surprise, it makes my life worthwhile." The Doctor grumbled. "The past then?" 

 

Harry shrugged and grinned, the first real grin the Doctor had seen and he approved mightily of it. It lit up Harry's face like Christmas. "Sure."

 

"Right, off we go then!" The Doctor said and started to pull levers and press buttons racing around like a madman; whom Harry supposed, he was. A madman in his blue space-and-time box. He really did get into some strange things.

 


	5. Back To The Future, Child In Tow

_With the lights out, it's less dangerous_

_Here we are now, entertain us_

_I feel stupid and contagious_

_Here we are now, entertain us_

Nirvana – _Smells Like Teen Spirit_

 

The TARDIS landed with a heavy thump and Harry was thrown from his chair onto the cold metal grating of the floor and he let out a tragic groan. Blinking green eyes set in that thin face had the Doctor grinning madly; and with a leaping movement, had Harry on his feet and cheerfully bounced from the TARDIS and outside.

 

"Off we go then." Harry said dazedly and ran after the Doctor and stumbled to a halt just outside.

 

A muddy road snaked over a hill to the north and a town of rustic huts clustered around the glittering blue river towards the south. Above them a clear blue sky and rolling green hills and fields recalled those memories of a lost childhood spent doing nothing but flying on broomsticks chasing a glittering gold ball with silver wings. And Harry found himself grinning broadly.

 

"Welcome, Viridian, to the year 56CE, to Londinium the Roman centre of trade in the far west of the Empire." The Doctor said brightly, his hazel eyes shining as he took in the tiny town.

 

"That's London?" Harry asked brightly, delighted at the newness of the situation.

 

The Doctor grinned broadly and nodded. "Yes, yes it is!" 

 

Harry laughed happily and with a bound, bounced down the hill the TARDIS was parked upon and towards the town, the Doctor following behind him enthusiastically. The town, because really, Harry thought with amusement, that's all it was, was a collection of mud, wood and straw huts thatched and occasionally tiled all clustered along the main road, which led straight down to the harbour. There in the quay stood half a dozen boats and trade cogs, each crawling with half a dozen men all affixing lines and ropes; one man in shining armour and a crested helm of black horse hair and a black and silver cloak was giving orders to the men on the boats.

 

"Must be market day," Harry observed before frowning in confusion. "Now, don't get me wrong, my world history is a little shaky but I'm pretty certain that they didn't have frigates in the one hundreds, let alone before."

 

"What?" The Doctor asked and he followed Harry's pointed finger down along the bay and raised his eyes brows in surprise. "You're right, they didn't."

 

Harry smirked and followed the Doctor, his green eyes running over the flowing lines of the half-finished frigate ship that occupied the south side of the quay. Great wooden ribs stuck out over a long thick keel that was made of four conjoined logs all warped in a curving shape. Close to fifteen men worked on hammering in the planks of wood that sealed up the sides of the boat and others were painting the sides with a thick dark material.

 

"They're tarring it already." Harry murmured, frowning. Teddy had a passing fascination with boats after bullying Harry and Ginny into letting him try out sailing after watching the Sydney to Tasmania race on the television at Hermione and Ron's house. Grandpa Granger, if Harry remembered correctly, had run away to sea when he was a boy before he had met Hermione's mother and finished his degree. Really, it wasn't surprising at all when you knew Mr. Granger that Hermione had loved adventure and danger as much as she did; or had. Past tense now, Harry thought with melancholy sadness.

 

"Pardon?" The Doctor asked, staring at his unlikely companion in surprise.

 

"You don't tar a ship of wood until it’s dry and the planks are set, if you do it before the ship can warp and tear the planking." Harry told him severely as he had to Teddy when Teddy had actually wanted to build a boat from scratch. They hadn't succeeded but they had enjoyed the building while it had lasted.

 

The Doctor nodded uncertainly confused by Harry's lecturing tone, really, the man would make a great father. The thought stopped him dead, Martha had mentioned him having children and losing them. Shivering at another comparison between their lives, the Doctor bounced up to the Roman in charge.

 

"Hello, I'm the Doctor and I'm very curious about that boat over there." The Doctor said bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not a boat, it's too big; it's a ship and it’s also a frigate." He said rolling his eyes again, and smiling tensely at the now bewildered roman in a black cape. "I'm Viridian."

 

"Cassius Atticus Domentius." The roman replied now thoroughly confused.

 

"Well Cassius, me lad, I happen to know that that ship over there, that frigate, is a very inspired design." The Doctor said, throwing an arm around Cassius' shoulders and steering him around to stare at the half built frigate.

 

Harry sighed and watched the Doctor to dig himself in deeper to trouble. That guy wouldn't know anything, to Harry's mind, he was clearly a Forman of some kind, but if you wanted to know anything about any kind of ship, you went to the architect. 

 

Besides which, he thought with a sly grin, there was a man in a purple robe and gold buckles reading an architectural sheet which said louder than words that he was the architect and would probably have the best idea where the frigate's design actually came from. Particularly, as Harry was certain that frigates weren't actually meant to be around until the eighteenth century.

 

Making up his mind, Harry slipped away from the Doctor, who was now showing off a piece of blank paper to Cassius and attempting to learn everything there was to know about the bizarre ship in the bay. Smirking to himself, Harry slipped up behind the other Roman and quietly read the designs behind his back. Oh yes, this was very out of date and by several centuries at least. Harry looked over towards the Doctor who was... Being hailed as Caesar? What the hell?

 

"Hello, I'm Viridian." Harry introduced himself to the suddenly startled Roman. He peered around the man and raised his eyebrows in appreciation of the design. "That really is inspired, my friend." 

 

"Who are you?" The man demanded arrogantly, drawing his robe around him tightly.

 

"I told you, Viridian." Harry replied and tugged the design closer to him. "Really, this is incredibly brilliant. You're a genius, my friend, that is, if you designed this yourself." Harry shot the man another sly look.

 

"I know. I am Hadrian Brutus." The man said puffing himself up importantly. "The foremost architect in Londinium and Gaul."  

 

"A most impressive office," Harry admired. "And where did you get the inspiration for a design such as this, see my grandfather was an inventor but even he wasn't half so clever as to design a whole new ship."

 

Hadrian puffed up self-importantly and nodded imperiously. "I had some help I will admit, my latest apprentice shows much promise. It was he who designed this, but naturally he had help from me as I am his master." 

 

"And where is this apprentice of yours?" Harry asked curious, greatly desiring to meet the man who could create a design nearly six hundred years before anyone else.

 

"Leonidas is resting, he works best at night and it would be criminal to not allow the man to work." Hadrian stated, staring down his very proud roman nose at Harry who nodded. "But he may well be up soon, and can be found at the town well or in his room at my villa." 

 

"My thanks good Master, I shall leave you to your work, it is very important." Harry said, bowing to the man and left without another word. He met the Doctor halfway to the well and grabbed the man and dragged him away from Hadrian Brutus and towards Leonidas the architect’s apprentice.

 

"But I have to speak with the architect; he knows who came up with the design!" The Doctor protested.

 

Harry grumbled beneath his breath and sighed, "and so do I; it was Leonidas his apprentice, who should be awake now and considering that there is no one at the town well he must be in Hadrian's villa."

 

The Doctor blinked in surprise. "You're ruining this for me."

 

"I have been sniffing out mysteries since I was eleven and nearly died each time. Forgive me for beating you to the chase." Harry said drolly, casting an amused look at the Doctor. "What were you showing those people back there, anyway, last I saw you were being crowned Caesar!"

 

The Doctor had the grace to look embarrassed, "psychic paper."

Harry blinked rapidly in surprise, pausing by the town well to stare incredulously at the Doctor. "Is that even moral?"

 

"I don't see why not," the Doctor shrugged.

 

"You made them think you were someone you're not!" Harry protested, wondering if he had made a mistake.

 

The Doctor scowled, "it makes things go easier!"

 

"That's cheating!" Harry yelped in surprise. 

 

"Cheating?" The Doctor demanded, narrowing his eyes at Harry. Just who did his latest companion think he was?!

 

"Yes, cheating!" Harry complained. "Here I was flattering the hell out of a pompous arse and you could have just waltzed up and had him spewing answers in half the time!"

The Doctor gaped in surprise before laughing, "you seemed to do well enough on your own!"

 

"It's the principle of the matter," Harry muttered petulantly with his arms crossed. "The guy was an arse!"

 

"You managed to get the answers well enough on your own," the Doctor shrugged with a lopsided smile. "Speaking of which, after you." The Doctor gestured towards the architects manor house.

 

"So kind of you," Harry murmured, leading the way with a still grumpy expression. THe Doctor managed to reign in his amuse laughter and watched as Harry slipped through the doorway of the architect's manor house, promptly ploughing into a young man with a pouting face and sulky eyes.

 

Harry immediately knew that the boy was out of place, he had a shock of red hair and bright blue eyes, completely different to Hadrian and Cassius' olive toned skin and dark eyes. He also looked distinctly pasty.

 

"Are you alright?" The Doctor asked the younger man and started to scan him with a thin metal rod with a blue light.

 

"A sonic screwdriver! I used to have one of those!" The man exclaimed delightedly. "That was before I replaced it with a laser, after all, who would have sonic?" 

 

Harry bit back a grin at the Doctor's stunned expression.

 

"I knew you were out of time, no one else could come up with a historically accurate ship without knowing you caulk the hull after the ship is allowed to settle!" Harry said triumphantly, pointing a finger at Leonidas.

 

The Doctor shot Harry a dark look, that would have been nice to know earlier on. 

 

Leonidas blinked. "Are you time travellers too?"

 

"Too?" The Doctor asked.

 

"Well obviously, how else do you think I got here? I'm helping to extend the Roman Empire to the America's and Asia." Leonidas said importantly. "Hadrian is allowing me to cover the schematics of the invasion and we will soon rule the Empire together after displacing the Emperor."

 

Harry face palmed. "You're an idiot, you can't change time! Doing so will ruin the whole of the space time continuum."

 

"I was about to say that." The Doctor complained; feeling a little out of place. Was this what his friends felt when they travelled with him? It wasn't a very pleasant sensation.

 

Leonidas sneered in disgust at the Doctor and his companion. "You can't stop me!"

 

"Oh you really shouldn't have said that." Harry murmured. "You see, my first name is Vindictus, and I think you'll find I can be quite vindictive when I feel like it." 

 

The Doctor stepped back and let Harry work, understanding that perhaps the recently bereaved father might need this to move on from his son’s deaths. A thought caused his mouth to twitch in humour, Vindictus Viridian? Where had he pulled that from? It was completely ridiculous!

 

"What?" Leonidas said, his face expressing his confusion.

 

"You are little more than a stupid boy messing around with things you really don't understand." Harry growled and grabbed the younger man by the scruff of his neck. "You are going home and I will explain, nicely, just why you should never piss me off nor do anything this stupid again!" 

 

"What no! You can't make me." Leonidas snarled, squirming in Harry's grip. "Let me go! I'll tell my father about this!"

 

Harry rolled his eyes. Really, the resemblance between this boy and Draco Malfoy was uncanny; they were both spoiled little brats who didn't know the difference between reality and fiction. "Do so, after we take you back!"

 

"No! I won't let you, I will rule the Empire, and you cannot stop me!" That voice was really getting on his nerves now.

 

"Emperor? You? You wouldn't last two days on your own. You can't even build a ship right. It'll sink before it makes it past the break water of the mouth of the Thames." Harry spat, cuffing the boy upside his head, and the Doctor bit back a grin. Really, the man must have had _sons,_ not just one, to be this good at dealing with a spoilt child.

 

"Shall we?" The Doctor asked. "Unless you would like to stay longer, that is?"

 

Leonidas brightened considerably. "Sure, I can show you around and everything."

 

"And let you run off like a child with a smacked bottom?" Harry asked scornfully. "Not likely. No, Doctor, we take the boy home and send him to bed without any supper."

 

Leonidas wailed in fear. "You can't!" He shouted, drawing attention to himself as he was dragged through the village, although no one stopped to help him. "My father will kill me!" 

 

"Your father will have stern words with you, for certain." Harry barked, leading many to draw the conclusion that Leonidas had run away from home. No one would report the boy missing and Hadrian Brutus would return to building ships as though Leonidas had never been there filling his head with foolish notions. "When were you from?" Harry asked the boy as they trudged up the hill to the TARDIS, Leonidas was no longer struggling and was instead weeping pitifully in Harry's strong grip.

 

"Cassius Venturas, fifty-third century." Leonidas said bitterly. The Doctor rolled his eyes; clearly Viridian hadn't put enough fear in the boy if he was still going to lie like that.

 

"Not true." The Doctor stated calmly, opening the TARDIS' doors. "You are from Centi Three in the fifty first century." 

 

Harry cuffed the boy again, and then threw him into the chair beside the console. "Don't lie to me, boy."

 

The Doctor grinned at his irreverent companion and hummed a lullaby absentmindedly as he moved around the room flicking switches and pulling levers. It seemed Harry had it all in hand, even if his dress sense was slightly lacking, really, where did he get those jeans and tank top from? They were positively awful. Once again the Doctor tugged at his bow tie, thankful for his own impeccable dress sense. The TARDIS was waiting for them to leave, patiently as ever, and Leonidas had been doing the usual gaping and shocked muttering about its internal verses external size and appearance when a loud boom rocked the ground. The Doctor spun to stare at Harry, who looked entirely too innocent.

 

"Don't worry, it’s not like anything bad happened, the frigate just exploded in a completely non-lethal way and the designs were mysteriously destroyed in a very random and inexplicable fire that consumed Hadrian Brutus' villa." Harry said nonchalantly while the Doctor and Leonidas stared at him in shock. "It's such a shame really, couldn't have happened to a better man." 

 

The Doctor stared at the green eyed man who stood so innocently beside the captain’s chair, one restraining hand lay on the once-again weeping Leonidas and laughed loud and long. Leonidas stared at Harry in horror, realising, not for the first time, that the young-old man in the ancient charcoal was a lot less dangerous than the old-young man with green eyes; and that the old-young man known as Viridian hadn't been joking, at all. Leonidas nearly wet himself in fear when that green gaze turned upon him expectantly.

 

**xXx**

 

Ten minutes later found Leonidas stumbling from the TARDIS, more than slightly fearful of the man with green eyes who waved so cheerfully from the doorway at him. The last minutes had been spent in conversation; a conversation he would very much prefer never to have again even if it meant his death. Vindictus Viridian was a hard man who tolerated idiocy as another might tolerate a broken limb. 

 

Leonidas shuddered and hastily made his way to the nearest time academy and promptly quit and handed in his time jumper, deciding that a boring and quite life as an architect might be far easier than world domination.  Behind him the TARDIS disappeared slowly to the accompaniment of groaning and wheezing gears, forever guided by her madman and his vindictive companion with green eyes.

 

**xXx**

 

The Doctor flicked another control before turning his attention to his companion who sat, still chortling, in the chair by the console. That head of hair was so messy, he thought, even worse than his previous regeneration; and those eyes sparkled when he laughed, it was a shame he didn't laugh more often; but those clothes, there was no excuse, they had to go.

 

"Go straight, then go right, just past the pool turn left and take the third door." The Doctor instructed.

 

Harry stared. "Why?"

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "because your clothing is awful!"

 

"And you can talk?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're wearing charcoal tweed. And a _bow_ _tie_."

 

The Doctor stared snootily back. "Bow ties are cool. So are fezzes; and Stetsons." 

 

"If you say so mate," Harry replied, his voice becoming oddly accented for a brief moment. "Aliens are utterly bizarre." He muttered as he exited.

 

The Doctor hummed as he worked, fine tuning some of the controls and trying not to think about the man known as Viridian stripping off in his wardrobe not ten metres away from him. The TARDIS rumbled and it took a while for the Doctor to realise she was amused. Amused! Because he was having bad thoughts about a man who he'd only just met but knew more about him than anyone else. A man who had refused him, much like Donna had and had already earned his respect and admiration ten times over. Really, it was just a little crush, nothing harmless. Surely...? The TARDIS just hummed once more, and the Doctor considered cursing in several languages when he realised she didn't believe him. Really, who wanted a sentient ship who could commune telepathically anyway? Not him. Nope, didn't want it at all. 

 

The Doctor sighed, he really shouldn't lie to himself like that, and it was bad enough that he lied constantly to his companions. There was movement behind him, and the Doctor spun around and stared.

 

"What do you think?" Harry asked, oddly nervous about the Doctor's opinion, and he really wasn't going to think about that at all. Ever.

 

Harry was wearing black jeans that hugged him tightly because he had shrunk them in all the right places while giving the fabric enough elasticity that should he need to, he would easily be able to lift his leg up above he ears. It was more the idea of needing that kind of flexibility that had him questioning his choice. His shirt was a billowy kind of pirate shirt with wide lapels and sleeves rolled to his elbows, that was made of white silk that fluttered as he moved, the shirt had the top three buttons undone. His feet were shod with black leather boots that came to his mid-calf and had a slight heel. And over the top he wore a black, sleeveless robe that came to his ankles. He looked, to the Doctor, like a pirate or maybe a wizard. For Harry, he felt like he was almost home, and had never felt more comfortable since he'd first arrived in this dimension nearly thirty years ago.

 

"You look different." The Doctor admitted. Had the man wore glasses and had a vivid lightning bolt scar on his head it would have been remarkable the resemblance between the literary character Harry Potter and the man he knew as Viridian. 

 

"Good different or bad different?" He asked knowing the Doctor was too old not to have an opinion. They both were. 

 

Harry wasn't surprised though, when the Doctor didn't state his opinion, if there was one thing Harry had learned about the Doctor, it was that the alien was unfailingly polite and as inoffensive as possible. But then, Harry supposed he didn't know the Doctor all that well.

 

The Doctor smiled back, hearing the ring of his own words spoken back at him like an echo through time and space. 

 

"Just... Different." He replied.

 


	6. All the Difference in the World

_If it's all a matter of timing_

_We're not always happy to find out_

_We're all variations of one another_

Josh Pyke - _Variations_

 

The TARDIS shuddered as she landed on a small world covered in rock and tall blood red grass. The sky was a gorgeous blue and had the Doctor's hearts sinking to his stomach, for just a moment, a rare and perfect moment; he could pretend that he was back on Gallifrey. Gallifrey, the Shining Planet of the Seventh System; where the fields of red grass dipped and bowed in the wind beneath a burnt orange sky with the twin suns hanging low in the horizon. The Doctor sighed, the heavy sigh of a man disappointed and he sent a wave of disapproval at the TARDIS, and he sank to his heels and stared across the fields lit up with a dying light. 

 

Harry sank down beside the Doctor and silently reached out to clasp the man’s shoulder; guessing, rightly, that the fields before him, held some kind of significance to the Time Lord. "It doesn't ever fade, but it does get easier." Harry said simply, his voice light and calm, as though he hadn't touched upon a sore subject.

 

"How do you even know that?" The Doctor scorned, forgetting briefly, Harry's own story.

 

Harry sighed. "I just do." He replied, and stood. His black robes fluttered around his legs, wrapping around him like a caress; and Harry fantasised, just for that brief shining moment, that Albus and James were back once more and tugging at his robes again, begging as they had once as children for another of his 'stories'.

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, and stared moodily out across the fields of red, his eyes pensive.

 

"There once was a man," Harry said suddenly, breaking into the silence. "A brilliant man who was so different to others around him, he knew what others could not, knew things about time and space and knew that one day he would see the stars. In time his family, who were a very traditional family, arranged a marriage in his name to a young and beautiful woman. The man never bothered to agree or disagree, he didn't care and he certainly wasn't interested. Some years after his marriage and not long after the birth of his first child the man made a breakthrough in time travel and confined the ability to a small instrument of immeasurable worth. 

 

"Excited, the man told everyone of his discovery, so proud and pleased with himself; his wife and son were rightly proud of him, but they soon became the targets of a man who wished to rule the world and do so while utilising the new technology the man had created. The man when he found out; found himself distraught and fearful for his sons and wife's lives and so traded the ability to travel in time for them. 

 

"Not a month later the world was burning and the man who desired to rule the world stood proudly upon the bodies of the creator’s wife and child. The man-who-created stared at what he wrought and sought to make it right, but in his haste and desperation, he didn't turn backwards far enough to stop the creation of the time travel units, instead, he arrived the day of his wife and sons capture. 

 

"Determined, the man raced to the nearest police office and with their aid, managed to stop the man who wanted to rule the world. But the time travel had a terrible cost, as the man stormed the place where his wife and child were held, the building exploded, killing him and his family instantly, but leaving his younger self alive."

 

The Doctor was staring at Harry with those deep, dark eyes and a twisted mouth as he remembered his own choice between Gallifrey and the Universe.

 

"I know this man’s story is hardly the same as your own, but it certainly emphasises one point. You both chose to do the right thing at the expense of another's life for the greater good. Sometimes there is no other choice, and while that choice is hardly palatable, it is all that is left in the face of a much greater disaster." Harry said heavily, his eyes on the horizon. "I know you weep for your people Doctor, and I understand your grief. But as my friend and mentor once told me, Doctor; _do not pity the dead and buried, pity the living, and above all, those who live without love_."

 

Harry turned and slipped back into the TARDIS, his black robe snapping in the wind and black hair wild above those serious green eyes.

 

The Doctor stared at the now closed door and then returned to the landscape before him. Insight was a rare moment for the Doctor, he refused to stop long enough to reflect upon his decisions, so long lived was he, that in doing so, he would likely cripple himself. But now, in a bright blaze of glory reflected in the golden light and bloodied grass of the planet he sat upon, he understood. 

 

This moment was not recrimination for his choices, it was not disapproval for his actions, and it certainly wasn't the TARDIS reflecting his own guilt and self-disgust back at himself; no, in her own way, this was the TARDIS forgiving him and helping him move on. In Viridian's story the man had faced certain death in destroying a far greater enemy that he had created through his own selfish choices and actions. But in his moment of trying to make everything right, the man had destroyed the only thing in his world he had to live for, and in doing so, paid for his actions thrice over. 

 

Like the man in the story, the Doctor had paid in the blood of his people for the solution that had saved the rest of the Universe and time itself. The Doctor had done everything inhumanely possible to fix the Time War, cautioned the Council in their arrogance and finally, had locked everything behind in chains of time itself. As the sun of this unknown world sank to the south and turned the red, red grass to the colour of dried blood, the Doctor took the first step in forgiving himself, and when he finally stood tall and dark against the night sky, entering the TARDIS once more, it was to the approving and loving croons of the TARDIS herself, the only constant in his long and lonely life, now bereft of everything he had once called home.

 

Harry stood beside the console and he smiled sadly at the Doctor, the purple bruises beneath those dark hazel eyes spoke of dark thoughts and a long night before him. The Doctor gazed at his latest companion, so different compared to Rose, Martha, Sarah Jane and Mickey, so strange in comparison to Jack, Donna and the Ponds, each had brought something new to his life, but none had tried to help him shelve his guilt and self-recrimination for the genocide of his people; probably because none could truly understand where he stood and how it honestly felt. But Viridian; Viridian certainly did, those cool green eyes were self-assured and calm in the face of everything they had encountered, everything he had seen. The Doctor smiled brightly back at his Viridian and felt comforted in the presence of a man who understood him, and didn't judge him even when holding the knowledge that he, the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, was by far the most dangerous thing he had ever encountered.

 

"Dangerous, yes," Harry agreed, seeing the thoughts swirling beneath those dark eyes and smiled as the Doctor jolted. Clearly he was unaware he had spoken aloud. "But not one to run from, I shouldn't think." 

 

The Doctor smiled gratefully. 

 

**xXx**

 

The spaceship was burning, falling through space towards a sun. The TARDIS was gone, lost when the first meteor had hit the hull, sent spinning towards the nearest centre of gravity which was a small moon the size of Mars and covered in yellow sand and trees that looked a lot like pines. Or so Harry thought as he teetered on the brink of the edge, below him his companion screamed for help. Her name was Dana; she was nineteen and had only wanted a bit of adventure. Harry felt his eyes tear up as the wind tore at his clothing above an open ventilation shaft. He strained further, his legs kicking violently as he wriggled on the jagged edge, the metal ragged and digging into the soft skin of his stomach. Each wriggling movement was a dance with getting Dana from dangling over that horrible drop and getting his stomach sliced open. The Doctor slammed his hands once more on the closed door and Harry paused long enough to shoot the man a reassuring grin before wriggling further downwards. His chest was hanging completely over the metal grating and only his legs and lower abdomen were anchoring him to the gangway. 

 

"Hang on Dana, I'm almost there!" Harry shouted, reaching backwards with his hands to lever himself up and over slightly, disregarding the danger. Behind him the Doctor was rewiring the door, trying to break through the double dead-lock seal.

 

Dana whimpered, clearly having trouble holding on and not looking down. The drive shaft tunnels were burning so hot that if she went within a five meter radius of them, she would be evaporated. Her long brown hair whipped around her as she hooked her arm through the piping she was clinging to. Harry groaned, feeling a piece of metal pierce his stomach and Dana let out a cry of horror as red liquid spattered her face.

 

"One. More. Metre." Harry groaned, sliding forwards, feeling his shirt tear as he did so. Dana slipped, and Harry growled violently, lunging forwards and catching her arm as it pin wheeled through the air. 

 

"Got you!" He crowed triumphantly, his legs hooked over the edge and wound with rope that was fastened to the barrier. It would hold. For now.

 

The Doctor watched in horrified fascination as Dana was encouraged to try and climb up Viridian's body and onto the walkway. She got as far as Viridian's stomach before she paused and in her eyes the Doctor could see horror and fear and the Doctor knew that Viridian was hurt, and badly. 

 

The Doctor let out a frustrated grunt and slammed the door once more; half a metre of metal separated him from his friend! His hurt friend. The Doctor sonicked the door once more, playing with the wires, trying to open the door desperately. Just as Dana started to move once more, the door slid open with a groan and reluctant whine. Gasping with relief and for air that he had unconsciously deprived himself, the Doctor shot forwards, running full tilt down the walkway towards the struggling, half-hanging pair.

 

Harry watched from his position as the door opened and the Doctor emerged, his hazel eyes intent as he bolted towards Harry and Dana. Dana had already wasted precious time exclaiming over his admittedly bad wound, and Harry was desperately trying to hang on, fear sapping his already waning strength.

 

"Viridian!" Dana shouted, horrified.

 

Harry looked up and watched in despair as the metal barrier wavered and as if in slow motion, fell. It was tied to his ankles; he wouldn't be able to hold himself, Dana and twenty pounds of metal. Harry clung to Dana tighter and stared at the Doctor as he ran, furiously towards them.

 

"Doctor!" Harry shouted his voice despairing and defeated, meeting the Doctor’s eyes with firm deliberation.

 

"Don't you dare!" The Doctor shouted, seeing the decision in Harry's eyes. "Don't you dare, Viridian!" 

 

Harry shook his head tiredly and mouthed two words. "I'm sorry."

 

The Doctor watched in horror, skidding to a halt as Viridian kicked his legs free and with a scream from Dana, fell over the edge. The Doctor threw himself on his belly, watching Viridian and Dana die as they encountered the drive shaft tunnels. The Doctor heard a wordless cry, and knew it to be his own as he lay on his stomach and stared horrified at the long, hot drop where Viridian, his friend and longest companion had fallen.

 

**X**

 

Harry landed flat on his back in salty and hot sea water, the air driven from his lungs as he clung to Dana's leg and clawed his way to the surface. Kicking himself upwards, Harry swam, desperately dragging a righted Dana with him as he sought land. Shuddering from expending so much effort of apparating such a long distance, Harry lay flat on his back and gasped for air. 

 

The sky was a clear hot blue like an Australian summer day, Hermione's parents had moved there after the war and Harry had loved visiting them with Ron and the kids. Ginny had despised the heat while Hermione was usually too busy with work. Tears pricked his eyes and Harry shook himself free of his morbid and sad thoughts, it had been so long since he had thought of his friends and wife, far too long. Harry groaned and rolled himself upright, his belly spilling fresh blood and as the cut broke open once more. Harry sighed and stood, staggering to his feet like a drunk, his heels sinking deeply into the loose sand and he fought to keep his balance.

 

 At his feet lay Dana, her brown hair a tangled mass that spread out like a curtain. Harry had barely enough strength to carry her anywhere, but he could hardly leave her behind. Harry picked the girl up, thankful that she could hardly weigh more than fifty kilos, she was so thin. Tired green eyes raised themselves to the horizon and Harry nearly laughed as he spotted the TARDIS standing beneath a tall pine tree. Harry barely managed to stagger to the time-ships base, falling against the door which fell inwards. 

 

**X**

 

The Doctor stood on the bridge, reworking the teleport and not thinking about Viridian and Dana who were almost certainly dead. Viridian had looked so defeated and tired, and the Doctor barely knew if it was possible for Viridian to teleport such a long distance. He would likely leave a part of himself behind. 

 

With a joyful shout, the teleport whirred into order and the Doctor began herding the frightened and tired passengers onto the platform and one by one were sent to the planet below to await rescue. The Doctor had already sent out an SOS, the instructions included would help the rescue effort, although the planet/moon below was hardly uninhibited. He had just sent the four thousand passengers into a shopping mall. He loved a little shop. 

 

Smiling tiredly, the Doctor changed the co-ordinates and teleported himself to where the TARDIS awaited him... Her doors wide open. Frowning, the Doctor crept forwards and stared in shock at the two unconscious bodies that lay on his stoop. Viridian had survived, somehow, and had rescued Dana as well.

 

**X**

 

"You are either completely brilliant, or very lucky." The Doctor told his awake, if pretending to be asleep friend.

 

Harry opened his eyes and grinned broadly at the relieved Doctor. "I like to think that I take educated risks."

 

"You knew you could teleport that far?" The Doctor asked in stunned amazement, was there anything his friend couldn't do?

 

Harry coughed lightly. "Er.. No. It's never been done before, but with enough deliberation I decided I should try it, and with determination I achieved it and arrived at my destination in one piece."

 

The Doctor had a feeling that Viridian was making fun of him and scowled at the cheeky man who sat so calmly in the TARDIS's med-bay.

 

"You're lucky to be alive." The Doctor scolded, tugging the man’s blankets straight and staring in Viridian's eyes.

 

"I know." Harry replied, feeling bizarrely content as he watched the Doctor putter around him, ensuring he was comfortable. As his eyes slid shut once more, Harry decided he rather liked being Viridian, he felt safer now than he had in years. He was Viridian now, his past life was over, he thought as he sunk into unconsciousness; Harry Potter was dead along with his family.

 

The Doctor stared at his companion in shock and delight, Viridian felt safe with him. Grinning happily, the Doctor shut the door behind him quietly and made his way to the kitchen to make himself some celebratory fish sticks and custard. 

 

**xXx**

 

"So, you're what, nine hundred years old, give or take." Viridian began, watching the Doctor fiddle with several different wires and his sonic screwdriver. Really, Harry thought to himself for the thousandth time, _who_ looks at a screwdriver and thinks, _ohh, this could be a little more sonic?_

 

The Doctor cast his most recent companion a bemused glance, unsure where the conversation was going. Of course, recent was a bit of a misnomer, Viridian and he had been travelling together for almost four years now, and every time Viridian began to noise about the possibility of leaving the TARDIS, the Doctor was quick to shoot off to somewhere truly strange and remarkable. 

 

The Doctor grinned brightly, and Viridian rolled his eyes slightly. Those green eyes had lost some of their ice over the past few years, and he had a small smile twitching at the side of those thin lips occasionally, particularly when the Doctor was doing something particularly stupid. Viridian had changed a great deal in the short time they'd spent together. 

 

"Closer to one thousand five hundred actually," The Doctor said airily.

 

"You said you were only nine hundred and five the first time I asked." Viridian reminded the Doctor. The Doctor winced slightly.

 

"You don't remember do you? You honestly do not remember your age at all." Viridian remarked in amusement. 

 

The Doctor stumbled away, completely flustered. "I remember; it's just hardly of any use for people to know." He said dodging the issue very well in his opinion.

 

Viridian sighed and rolled his eyes, ensuring the Doctor couldn't see. "Really, you're very silly for an ancient alien." 

 

 _Mind_ _you_ , Viridian admitted in his private mind, _he hardly knew how old he was, somewhere around his second hundredth year, or at least, close too_. Viridian wasn't certain either.

 

The Doctor grumbled at that, not paying attention to the wires in his hands. The end of the blue wire sparked and the red one hummed slightly in his sensitive fingers and the Doctor almost swore in frustration. He really wanted to re-circuit this part of the TARDIS, he almost felt like the TARDIS was deliberately frustrating him in the name of teaching him patience.

 

"If she wanted to teach you patience she wouldn't burn your fingers, Doctor." Viridian said from where he'd removed himself, seated elegantly upon the nearby chair. He examined his nails curiously. "You know, I've always wondered, why the name Doctor. I mean, don't get me wrong, it certainly suites you in a sanctimonious kind of way." Viridian trailed off as he found a small cut on his fingertip.

 

"I used to have a friend who believed that my choice in title was sanctimonious and boring." The Doctor said his voice faint as he dug around in a box of _stuff_. "The Master he was called. He was driven insane by the other Time Lords who wished to control him, and once was a very close friend."

 

"The Master?" Viridian snorted. "How arrogant of him, bet he was a psychiatrist’s field day with a name like that. I mean, really, who chooses the name of Master? The Master of what? Life the universe and everything? Or something more?" Viridian's voice was snide.

 

"It was originally a title of respect." The Doctor reprimanded lightly, vaguely amused by Viridian's words. "He was particularly talented at mind control and had he had any drive for medicine, would have made a most remarkable mind healer. As it was he was the Master of Bio-Engineering and Chemical Warfare on Gallifrey, no one knew more than him."

 

"Then you must have been a real Doctor at one stage then." Viridian mused, thinking upon the vague details the Doctor had let slip over the years.

 

They Doctor smiled. "I was. A Doctor of Astro-Physics and Historical Geography and Time." The Doctor grinned. "I was one of the smartest in my classes, barring the Master of course, and we, the Master and I and a few friends, belonged to a group who chose names that would be a kind of title and rebellion against the other Time Lords." The Doctor's grin turned cheeky. "None of us agreed with Rassilon's policies of non-interference."

 

Harry looked over at the Doctor who was resting back on his heels, eyes far away as he remembered his younger days. A soft smile rested on those well sculpted lips, and Viridian bit back an oath as he realised he was more than contemplating the Doctor; he was actually contemplating certain _parts_ of the Doctor.

 

"What about you?" The Doctor asked suddenly, jolting back into reality. "Why did you choose Viridian?"

 

Viridian frowned slightly, unsure how he would swing this past the incredibly intelligent alien. 

 

"I was a police officer back on my world, and I was very talented at my job, so much so that I was usually the first in line for any and all action. Viridian was the name of a man who wrote a very thick book on all kinds of defence, he helped me enough and when I finally met him, was more than pleased to teach me everything he'd left out. It's..." Viridian paused and then shrugged. "My way of honouring a dead man, I suppose."

 

Viridian thought he'd twisted the truth well enough there, Vindictus Viridian and he had certainly never met, although the book the man had written was certainly very useful after having read the more relevant ones; and really, the man hadn't taught him anything he hadn't already known. Still, Viridian supposed that the original Viridian would have been proud and pleased that the Great Harry Potter had deigned to use his name in his continued falsification of his identity. Viridian barely restrained from rolling his eyes again.

 

The Doctor eyed his travelling companion and found himself amused at the man’s sour expression. He doubted the story was true, certainly, parts would be, but the chances were that most of the very nice and neat story was a load of hogwash. 

 

"Does anyone in this universe know your real name?" The Doctor asked casually. He failed; epically.

 

Viridian smirked slightly. "More than two, less than a trillion." He replied cheekily, knowing his reply would more than frustrate the Doctor, the man who had to know everything. 

 

The Doctor bit back an oath. That was just cheating!

 

**xXx**

 

Running, there was always running involved when travelling with the Doctor, Viridian grumbled mentally as he dodged, yet another, flying purple thing. The Doctor had named them and then rattled off some kind of law that the Shadow Proclamation had written only to be chased off by the 'warriors' of the purple winged people. Viridian often wondered if the Doctor only quoted the Shadow Proclamation because it made him feel clever; because as far as he could tell, no one paid heed to the words and Viridian actually wondered if the laws were worth the paper they were written on. 

 

Viridian grunted as he stumbled over the loose rocks that peppered the slope he was sliding/running down and shot the Doctor a pointed glare. When they had time, and Viridian had the breath, that alien would find himself confined to his room for time out or something similar. 

 

"Come along Viridian!" The Doctor shouted gleefully, leaping over a low fence.

 

Viridian swore in several languages as he stumbled after the ridiculously graceful and elegantly loping form of the Doctor and felt something pass over his head. Screw time out, he was going to _murder_ that bloody lanky alien!

 

"I can help you!" The Doctor shouted, yelping in surprise as he had to jump sideways to avoid the long, pointy talons that had just attempted to snatch his head from his shoulders.

 

Viridian snarled angrily and launched himself into the Doctor's midriff and sent them tumbling down the slope, saving the Doctor from another attempt of decapitation by really long clawed feet.

 

"Viridian!" The Doctor complained as he staggered upright, cradling his head which he'd knocked firmly against the rocks at the bottom of the slope.

 

"Doctor!" Viridian snapped back irately. "It's your own fault and you know it."

 

The Doctor pouted and then practically wilted beneath the glare that Viridian shot his way. "I didn't mean to! They were eating people; I can't condone that kind of behaviour!" The Doctor protested.

 

"People who I've talked to, in case you didn't notice; people who are waging a war with the beasts, a war that has been going on for ten generations now, and a war that the bloody bat like people are losing." Viridian snapped in return. "This is _their_ planet and you went and jumped on the human bandwagon before hearing both sides of the story."

 

The Doctor faltered and pouted again. 

 

"And then you had to go about accusing every one of murder and whatever else." Viridian continued on his rant, missing the 'bloody bat people' hovering above their heads.

 

"Viridian," The Doctor said, his eyes staring upwards and at a very large purple bat-like creature.

 

"Shut up, Doctor." Viridian overrode the Doctor and drew in another deep breath. "I'm not surprised the bat people chased us! You!" Viridian quickly corrected himself, the Doctor had actually been chased first and Viridian had been pulled along for the ride. "And then we've been run over hill and over dale and now you expect me to bloody follow you wherever the hell it is you're bloody taking me?"

 

The Doctor winced, Viridian was swearing now, that was never a good thing. "Sorry." He mumbled, unheard as Viridian continued to rant.

 

The was a thud of a massive thing landing next to them, and Viridian spun around and came face to face with one of the beings that had been chasing him and the Doctor. The creature was large, very large. Covered in fine purple fur and with glowing red eyes the beast stood at five metres in height and was roughly ten meters from nose to rudder like tail. The face was characterised by a long curved beak, not unlike an eagles and was shaped similarity like a dogs with a broad brow and tall tufted ears that stood to attention upon its head. It crouched upon its hind legs and had a long curved neck that arched gracefully above its deep chest and long, winged fore arms that were decorated with three double jointed fingers that were adorned with twenty centimetre claws. It looked, in short, to be a cross between a pterodactyl and a bizarre dragon like dog. 

 

"Oh." He said in surprise.

 

"The Child of the Vortex speaks truth." The being said calmly, its voice screechy and unpleasant.

 

"Vortex? What the hell is a vortex?" Viridian muttered. "And what are you on about?"

 

The creature rumbled and it took a while for Harry to realise that it was laughing. "We are the Pormillions. And my name is Darlk" The creature stated. "We have existed and lived here for aeons in peace and prosperity."

 

"Well, that's lovely, really." Viridian said sarcastically. The Doctor winced at his abrasive and irreverent companions tone. "I'm Viridian, a human and this idiot is the Doctor, a Time Lord." 

 

Darlk rumbled again, not at all offended by the human. "You are a rare creature, Child of the Vortex known as Viridian." 

 

Viridian rolled his eyes and mumbled something uncomplimentary.

 

The Doctor quickly jumped in, not wanting the Pormillions to attack them again. "I'm sorry for my hasty words, perhaps I was inadvisably rude."

 

"It is always inadvisable to be rude, Child of Gallifrey." Darlk agreed his voice slow. "We know, however, of your love and protection for the Earthlings, and we do not kill the unnecessarily, but we are predators by nature and the humans have attacked us without warrant or cause."

 

The Doctor winced. "They do that occasionally," he muttered by the way of an agreement.

 

"It is in the nature of the young to poke their noses into places where they do not belong. You yourself display these attributes, even though you are almost of a middling age." Darlk commented.

 

Viridian groaned. "May the Lord save me from immortal beings," he muttered.

 

Darlk rumbled again. "For him to do so, you would need saving from yourself." 

 

"I'm not immortal!" Viridian yelped in shock. 

 

The Doctor eyed his companion curiously.

 

"Of course not," Darlk agreed.

 

The Doctor blinked and bit back a grin. Darlk the Pormillion sounded as though he was simply humouring his companion. Viridian looked rather put out. Of course, for Darlk to be humouring Viridian, it meant that Viridian was actually not human and immortal, and the only other immortal the Doctor knew was Captain Jack Harkness; and Jack was wrong. Besides, the Doctor didn't really want to think about that much.

 

Darlk turned his attention back to the Doctor and stared at him gravely. "You will go to the humans, you will tell them that they will leave Pormmilioth alone and if they do so, the prisoners will be returned to them. If they do not, we will descend upon them and eat them." Darlk's voice brooked no argument. "They have five days."

 

The Pormillions launched themselves skyward and left the Doctor standing helplessly below with a still pouting Viridian beside him. The conversation had been an odd blend of warning, threat and idle chitchat and the Doctor was unsure just where he stood. At any rate, he thought, he had to find the human base and get them to leave before they all died. _Not an easy task at all_ , he thought sourly, _humans are notoriously stubborn_. 

 

**xXx**

 

There were certain things that the Doctor loved to call Silurian’s, and kind was never one of those words. As it was, this was so far beyond _not_ -kind that the Doctor wasn't even sure he had an adjective for it. Viridian was strung up between two pillars, stripped to the waist and his feet bound to a thirty-five pound ball and chain. The pillars were based on the Doric pillars of Earth, scrolled tops furled tightly into a long thin pillar of white stone that was flecked with black and red. Blood pooled at Viridian's feet and his head sagged against his chest which rose and fell irregularly like he was fighting for each breath. 

 

The Doctor found himself seized by the same black anger that had stolen his breath so many times during his ninth regeneration and during the Family of Blood that had caused him to go into hiding and nearly desert Martha Jones. Only this time, it was on Viridian's behalf, the man who had stolen his hearts as surely as Rose had and who he didn't even know as well as the short, young blonde human female that had travelled with him for two years, give or take. Viridian who had stood in front of Pormillion's, Cybermen, and Slitheen; Viridian who would never allow him to harm himself and would walk across fire to save his alien hide despite his own reservations regarding other species. Viridian who the Doctor would actually die for, not just simply regenerate. 

 

Viridian who didn't even look the slightest bit uncomfortable as he slowly raised his head and smiled at the Doctor, with not relief or fear, but with a bizarre kind of welcome. The Doctor had never admired anyone as much as he did Viridian in that moment, regardless of names, places and faces; the Doctor knew that Viridian was one of those rare types who actually could keep up with the Doctor with the same ease that only another Time Lord could manage.

 

"Viridian," the Doctor smiled sadly, eyeing the man who was strung up like a lamb for slaughter.

 

Viridian bared his teeth in a grin. "Doctor, how're you? I've been hanging about here for ages; I know most of the cracks in the walls by their first names." He said in attempt at levity.

 

The Doctor smirked. "Really?" He asked trying desperately to ignore the situation Viridian was in; it was both shocking and guilt inducing. "What a waste of your time." 

 

Viridian barked out a hollow laugh and allowed himself to slump to the floor as the Doctor sonicked his shackles free. "Well you know how it is, prison guards have little imagination that in comparison walls are actually good conversationalists."

 

The Doctor flinched at the reminder and pulled Viridian to his feet. "Come along, Viridian. I think it's time we go and have a chat with these Silurians." 

 

Viridian grinned viciously and followed the Doctor down the hallway, trying to disguise his limps as a deliberate and sedate walk and the Doctor didn't give lie to his pace. The Silurian Chief sat, obviously bored, in his throne-like chair and didn't even lift an eyebrow in surprise as the Doctor and his prisoner entered the room with stern and forbidding faces. What happened next would go down in legend, where the Chief Silfen of the Darksbane Silurian Fleet bowed and scraped to the Time Lord known as the Doctor while a human who was not, stood witness. 

 

Harry however, missed most of the speech and various threats and angry gestures as he was simply far too tired to remember much, let alone take anything in. The Doctor, on the other hand, remembered clearly and with a great deal of relish, although he was quick to notice that Viridian wouldn't. Much to his clear disappointment, Viridian so rarely needed any aid or defence from him that any time he could give it, was thought of fondly and with many a soft expression of reminiscence. Viridian would have been disgusted to have learned of this at the time, and the Doctor greatly embarrassed had there been a chance, but when it was revealed, oddly neither minded in the slightest.

 


	7. A Continuation of the Previous

_When you ride into the night without a trace behind_  
Run your claw along my gut, one last time  
I turn to face an empty space, where once you used to lie  
And look for a spark that lights the dark  
Through a teardrop in my eye

Christy Moore, _Ride On_

 

Harry leant backwards, smirking broadly as a tall man in a great coat sat opposite him blue eyes avidly fixed on the sonic screwdriver in his hand that he absently toyed with. “Captain Jack Harkness, fancy seeing you here in twenty-first century London.” Harry drawled, scanning their surroundings with wary eyes. “Shouldn’t you be in Cardiff with your little fan club?”

 

Jack, a handsome man with a strong jawline and brilliant blue eyes, gaped in shock at the strange man before him. Who was this man? This man who had the young-old eyes of a time traveller, a man who reminded him of the Doctor who he had not seen in many, many years. “Who are you?” Jack demanded, feeling off-kilter.

 

“I go by the name Viridian; I’m a companion of the Doctor's.” Harry informed the other man, pocketing the screwdriver with a smug wink. He picked up his pint and took a long draught. “You’re confused.”

 

Jack nodded and dazedly leant back, staring in increasing bewilderment at Viridian, running his blue eyes over the lean lines of the other man taking in the strange clothing that was very Victorian era and the ease at which he handled sonic technology. He was a bundle of contradictions, just how the Doctor loved them…

 

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, handsome Jack; I’m just here for some company.” Viridian soothed, calling over the nearest waiter and ordering his table mate a pint of lager. 

 

Jack, despite being completely puzzled by the appearance of a Doctor companion, was never one to let an opportunity escape and grinned charmingly. He vaguely wondered if Ianto would let this one slide as Viridian was very attractive and well, let’s face it; Jack didn’t have much in the way of twenty-first century morals. “Company?” Jack questioned roguishly, accepting the pint of golden liquid from the bartender.

 

“Not the kind you’re hoping for, I don’t condone infidelity.” Harry replied swiftly, his eyes sparkling across the mouth of his glass. 

 

Jack sighed in mock disappointment and then grinned broadly. “And if _he_ was into it as well?” Jack inquired sending Harry into gales of laughter. 

 

“No,” was the amused reply. “Besides, I’m quite happily married, unlike some I truly meant forever.” Harry stretched, arching his body and popping the vertebrae in his back. “How goes your work?”

 

“Saved the world again,” Jack muttered sourly, rolling his eyes.

 

Harry grinned wryly, “it’d be nice if it just stayed saved for once, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Not wrong!” Jack agreed fervently. “How long are you here for?”

 

“Until the Doctor remembers me,” Harry replied easily, apparently unconcerned at his abandonment. “He received a phone call from a friend and had to go help her out.” Harry winked roguishly. “You know how whipped he is by his women.”

 

“He is whipped, isn’t he?” Jack agreed, laughing. “I remember when he and Rose used to travel, she’d just have to pout those lips at him and he’d cave faster than a soufflé.”

 

Harry roared with laughter, grinning broadly at Jack and raising his glass into the air. “To the women in the Doctor’s life, may he never get un-whipped!”

 

“If only for our own amusement!” Jack hollered in agreement, sending them both into gales of laughter.

 

The nearest table shot the pair filthy looks before moving away, allowing a couple to drag the table over to Jack and Harry’s table, their faces earnest. Jack grinned cheekily at the woman and swiftly moved to help them, while the woman’s husband fell ungracefully into his seat, clearly exhausted.

 

“Sorry, we heard you mention the Doctor, we couldn’t help but-”

 

“The Ponds!” Harry exclaimed, having heard all about the Ponds in his travels with the Doctor. Although he’d never expected to meet them, but then, he’d also never expected to be stranded in 2014 London by the Doctor either. “You’re Amy and Rory!”

 

Amy stared at the wild haired man in surprise before sadness stole over her like a black cloud. “You’re from the future aren’t you? After we leave.” 

 

“Yes.” Harry agreed, equally sad. “He misses you, it’s been close to a hundred years or so for him but I still find him reading that letter you left him. Never leaves the TARDIS without it.”

 

Amy smiled fondly, taking Rory’s hand in her own so that she didn’t feel quite so lost, what letter had she left the Doctor? And how did he lose them? “How did you both meet the Doctor?”

 

Jack, disturbed at how quickly the mood has disintegrated, burst into the conversation like a hurricane. “In World War 2!”

 

“World War 2?” Amy exclaimed in surprise, while Rory gaped at the strange man in old fashion clothing. “Did you meet Churchill too?” She demanded hopefully.

 

“Churchill? No,” Jack shook his head quickly. “I was a time agent-”

 

“Ooh!” Harry and Amy murmured together, leaving Rory to stare at them in disturbed surprise; what was it about the Doctor’s companions that made them so creepily similar? “He doesn’t like them at all.”

 

“Ex-time agent!” Jack hastily corrected, holding up his hands to show that it was all in the past. Amy grinned at him with mischievous amusement, clearly not believing him. “I might have forgotten to hand in my Vortex Manipulator to the Academy. It was an honest mistake, really.”

 

“I’m sure,” Harry drawled in obvious amusement while Jack grinned cockily at the stunned couple. 

 

“A Vortex Manipulator?” Rory said, slowly annunciating the words with care, they sounded awfully similar to him; you’d think that after eight years of travelling with the Doctor that he’d know more about time travel. “Doesn’t River own one of those?” He asked his wife who rolled her eyes.

 

“Yes!” Amy snapped impatiently, returning her attention to Jack, missing the slight hurt on Rory’s face as she bulldozed over Jack’s self-congratulatory story about how he and his vortex manipulator had save the Doctor’s life; even if the Doctor didn’t see it that way. “Jack, if you have a vortex manipulator-”

 

“I do but I don’t, it’s broken.” Jack hastily corrected, stunning Amy silent once more as she gaped at him. 

 

“But you said-”

 

“What Jack Harkness says and what Jack Harkness does are two very different things.” Harry drawled knowingly, sounding a bit too much like Draco Malfoy for his comfort. The thought had him wrinkling his nose in disgust, he hadn’t thought of the poncy blonde git in a long time, and frankly he’d prefer to keep it that way, no matter how much an improvement Albus’ best friend Scorpius Malfoy had been on his stubborn and reluctant-to-change father. 

 

“Do I know you?” Jack asked Harry in vague surprise and not a small amount of hope, raking his blue eyes over his companion’s lanky form.

 

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “Not in the way you want to, but yes, we’re friends.”

 

“Only friends?” Jack sounded disappointed.

 

Harry laughed and waved Jack’s inquiry away as he stood and made his way to the bar, ordering another four pints while keeping an idle ear cocked for his three companion’s discussion. It was fairly generic and Harry found himself at least half as fond of the trio as the Doctor was. He  knew exactly why the time lord loved Amy and Rory so much; they were very entertaining and kind, remarkably so.

 

“Viridian!” The Doctor’s voice cut across the chatter of the bar like a foghorn and Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance as the alien bounced over to him. “Why are you here?” He was asked as the Doctor stole one of his pints and took a quick sip and making a disgusted face. “That’s awful!”

 

“Then why did you drink it?” A female’s voice asked in amusement, and Harry spun around, distracted from counting his change like the cheap-skate he was to stare into the beautiful dark eyes of the Doctor’s newest companion. 

 

“He’s a right idiot, that’s why.” Harry informed her cheekily, grinning with the same roguishness that characterised Jack’s own broad grin.  
  
“Oi!” The Doctor protested articulately. “I am not!”

 

“You kinda are.” Clara said dryly, accepting one of Harry’s beers apparently having missed the stunned silence behind them. Unfortunately, the Doctor hadn’t and he turned around only to be caught up in Jack’s arms and passionately kissed with ridiculous enthusiasm.

 

“Mphf!” The Doctor protested, flailing his arms wildly. Harry barked a shocked laugh and winked at Clara who was open mouthed in stunned amazement.

 

“Clara Oswald may I introduce Captain Jack Harkness, the Doctor’s former travelling companion?” Harry drawled, leaning on the bar-top with casual ease. Jack stepped back and grinned roguishly at Clara who was wide-eyed and pink cheeked from his display of casual affection with the Doctor who was now wiping at his mouth, pretending to be affronted. “Jack, this is Clara Oswald, the Doctor’s newest companion.”

 

“Clara Oswald, huh; I like this one Doc, she’s pretty!” Jack enthused suggestively, running blue eyes over Clara’s admittedly beautiful form.

 

Clara laughed in flirtatious delight and smirked at the older man with impossibly blue eyes and ancient clothing before turning to the Doctor in triumphant accusation. “It is a snogbox!” She cried laughing wildly at the Doctor’s shocked expression.

 

“No it isn’t! Nothing like that happens there!” The Doctor protested, waving his arms about before realising that his protestations weren’t making the slightest difference to Harry and Clara, who were now leaning against each other, they were that hysterical. “Shut UP!” The Doctor whined, stabbing a finger at the chortling pair and turning to Jack in hope. “Tell them the TARDIS isn’t a snogbox, Jack!”

 

“I don’t know, Doctor, you and Rose used to be pretty close.” Jack drawled, obviously beyond amused by the Doctor’s predicament. 

 

“Not to mention the snogging Rory and I do- did in the TARDIS!” Came an amused voice from behind the Doctor, her silvery laughter drawing the Doctor’s dumbfounded gaze and he whitened in shock and then, to Harry increasing amusement, gaped in stunned amazement, clearly having forgotten that sometimes, timelines could cross quite unexpectedly. 

 

“Amy?” He breathed staring at her in delight and incredibly forceful hope. “AMY!” He shouted and flung himself at the beautiful redhead and nearly tackling her to the ground. 

 

Clara stared in shock, and turned to Harry in silent question and the green eyed man leant over to her, breathing in her air the explanation she desired. “The Doctor lost Amy and Rory quite some time ago, it nearly killed him and now, now they’ve reunited. You see, the Doctor is very nearly immortal, oh he’ll die eventually, but he outlives practically everyone he knows and loves. All of us and he’s forever saying goodbye in the most horrible ways possible; but sometimes, _occasionally_ , goodbye is more of an ‘I’ll-see-you-later’.”

 

Clara’s mouth made an ‘o’ of comprehension and her eyes filled with tears. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless and she smiled strongly at the sight of her lonely Doctor embracing Rory ‘the Roman’ with strong arms and pounding his back in an enthusiastic greeting and knew that even if she had to leave the Doctor, he’d remember her for the rest of his very long life. Harry drew her into a half-hug, lending her comfort as she wept for the Doctor and celebrated this one moment of reunion between a lost traveller and his beloved family. 

 

“I’m sorry Doctor, we have to go.” Harry said, cutting across the joyful exclamations and various protestations as Amy and Rory accused the Doctor of not taking care of himself and of travelling alone and losing hope. They had never wanted any of that, they weren’t as important as their Raggedy Doctor and they knew without a shadow of a doubt that the girl who wept in joy for their reunion would take care of their Doctor as they were no longer able too. 

 

The Doctor stilled, the light in his eyes extinguishing as he turned to Harry and Clara, knowing that Harry spoke the truth and that if he stayed any longer the very fabric of time itself would unravel once more. He didn’t really fancy kick-starting the universe again, once had been enough. “I know.”

 

Harry nodded and moved to embrace Amy with a smile. “It was lovely meeting you Amelia Pond, you’re everything and more than the Doctor said you were.” He said calmly and quite seriously staring into her hazel eyes with his own impossibly green ones. Leaning forwards and brushing his mouth over her ear he murmured one last message to her and then swayed backwards staring into her eyes once more and smiling enigmatically before embracing Rory in turn, once more he murmured in Rory’s ear and smiled with infinite sadness as he moved back, allowing Clara her turn to embrace the Ponds, her sweet kindness stunning Amy and Rory as she thanked them for everything.

 

Finally it was the Doctor’s turn and as he said his goodbyes, his hearts breaking a little more with every word; Jack, Harry and Clara exited the pub and moved with slow deliberation to the TARDIS which was parked, once more, in the middle of Soho Square. Jack grinned at the sight, his eyes shining with a million memories and tears as he embraced the Doctor’s newest companions, smiling as he did so.

 

“You take care of him, I know that he doesn’t like you to, but he needs it.” Jack said firmly, tightening his hands around their arms in a firm grip as he stared intently into their eyes. “Don’t let him linger, I’ve seen him like this before and it’s never a good thing. Don’t let him remember too much but also don’t let him forget.”

 

“I know.” Clara said with quiet determination. 

 

Her eyes were haunted with the memory of her latest adventure with the Doctor; it had been both horrible and incredibly saddening to watch her impossible Doctor kneel before a parasitic planet and weep for everything he had experienced, everything he had lost and everyone he had loved. That mad impossible man in his blue bigger-on-the-inside box who she was so incredibly fond and in awe of; that mad man who’s sheer brilliance made her practice that-sometimes-twice-a-day-trick of ‘ _don’t fall in love_ ’. _The Doctor and the TARDIS_ , (as River would-one-day-say/did-say/had-said of her husband/lover/companion), _next stop everywhere_. Clara Oswald would never fail him; never, not in a million years. 

 

Jack stared into doe brown eyes and saw in them the same determination that characterised all of the Doctor’s companions, even the mysterious Viridian had a similar expression in his eyes and he felt reassured in the Doctor’s survival; both Viridian and Clara would choose to die before allowing the Doctor to sacrifice himself. Jack, ancient as he was, felt a flicker of guilt in his satisfaction; it was not his place to ask for such things but at the same time, the Doctor was oh-so important, beyond all his love of humanity and vague promises of life/death/survival that he placated his companions with.

 

“I know Jack, more than you could possibly know.” She smiled at him and her determination seemed as immutable as time itself and Jack grabbed her shoulders and puller her into a rough hug, knowing with every fibre of his being that Clara would never waver, never fail and best of all would never allow the Doctor to forget his promise.

 

“I know.” Jack murmured, mimicking Clara and grinning broadly while Harry watched and smiled, his eyes filled with a million promises that he could never speak because they were a million promises already broken a thousand times over. “Well, have fun, and I’ll see you around!” Jack laughed, spinning around and started walking away.

 

“Oi! You’re not leaving without saying goodbye are you?” The Doctor demanded, grinning at Jack completely missing the hazy eyes and shaky smiles of his companions, old and new.

 

“Me? Never!” Jack proclaimed snatching the Doctor up into a tight hug and kissing the man once more; darting away before the Doctor could hit him. “Bye Doctor, take care of them, those two are special; I can feel it.”

 

The Doctor stared after Jack in mild surprise before turning in suspicion to Harry and Clara, both of whom were smiling with innocence as they leant against the TARDIS, eyes wide with mock surprise. “What did you do?” 

 

“Us?” Harry asked innocently. “Absolutely nothing to my knowledge; what about you, Clara?” He turned to his fellow human who bit her lip to keep from laughing, those dark brown eyes sparkling with good humour.

 

“Absolutely nothing,” she agreed grinning. “Where are we off to next, Doctor?’

 

Distracted, the Doctor entered the TARDIS with childish enthusiasm, spinning around the centre console with wild-armed glee as he pulled switches and levers grinning at them. “Where do you want to go?” He asked hazel eyes bright with challenge.

 

Harry smirked and met Clara’s eyes, reaching a silent agreement he turned to the Doctor and cocked an eyebrow. “Surprise us-”

 

“Chin Boy,” Clara finished cheekily, slapping Harry a high-five to the Doctor’s chagrin.

 

“There are two of them now!” He commiserated as he punched in co-ordinates. The Doctor smirked at Harry and raising his hand dramatically, slammed down a lever as he cried out: “GERONIMO!!”

 

**xXx**

 

Titan Three was a backwater planet in the Andromeda galaxy that had been settled during the fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire nearly three thousand years ago during the 74th Century. As it was, Titan Three was still a back water planet in the Andromeda galaxy, responsible for more than a fourth of the fresh produce that supported the far-away capitol of the fifth Great and Bountiful Human Empire under the reign of John Phillip Andrew Marcus Kristopholes the 53rd. 

 

Harry found the strange mix of village life and large pastures reminiscent of 1830’s England; which he had completely loved when the Doctor and Clara had dragged him there just last week. He smiled as he watched a tousle haired boy with bright blue eyes that reminded him forcibly of James. The boy laughed as he ran through the legs of his elders, his blonde haired sister chasing after him with anger-flushed cheeks, whatever he’d done, she clearly didn’t appreciate it.

 

The Doctor watched his longest surviving companion with compassionate hazel eyes, Viridian appeared to be drawn to any and all children that he saw; undoubtedly they reminded him of his sons. Clara too, watched the messy haired man, but she saw more than a father in those weary green eyes that were so similar to her beloved Doctor’s. No, Viridian was more than a father, he’d had more than just children; he’d had grandchildren, nieces and nephews and inside her heart, Clara wept for his losses.

 

“Why are we here?” Clara asked, breaking through the maudlin silence that felt close to overwhelming her. The Doctor started, shocked into movement by his Impossible Girl’s curious voice and he grinned broadly as his arms waved wildly about his head.

 

“This it Titan Three!” The Doctor exclaimed as if the name should mean something to his companions. “It’s THE agricultural planet and has been for three thousand years. Technology that the High Council deems unnecessary is completely banned by law and this is their festival of Lights; a celebration of the Harvest and the New Year. It’s a very important festival locally.”

 

“And what does a festival have to do with no technology?” Harry asked as he watched a group of workmen hoisting up a large metal scaffold that had been draped in a thousand paper lanterns. Even unlit it was quite beautiful to look at.

 

The Doctor sighed, clearly despairing of his companion’s inability to put two and two together. “They use non-technological lights; like lanterns and torches and bonfires. It’s quite impressive!” 

 

Clara gasped in awe as she grinned around the central market place that they had followed a crowd of families into. The flag-stoned square was lit up in amazing splendour with dozens of multi-coloured torches burning in their cast-iron brackets while strings of paper lanterns criss-crossed the square like colourfully lit bunting, the candles that sat inside them flickering cheerfully like stars in the sky. It was a wonderful golden haze of light, colours and sounds of good cheer and well-wishing and Harry grinned broadly at the sight. Humans could be brilliant at all kinds of festivities but this kind, the communal kind, was his favourite. 

 

“Oh my stars,” Clara breathed, stunned amazement written all over her face. “This is amazing.”

 

“Agreed,” Harry grinned, his eyes absorbing every detail in minutia while the Doctor tugged on his bowtie in pleasure, pleased that Harry and Clara were so impressed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Doctor.” Harry murmured, shooting the time lord an impressed glance before his eyes were drawn to the stage that was set up near a tall building with a clock face and a large flag on its roof. Harry assumed it was the city’s town hall and was amused at the neo-gothic architecture it displayed, “this is absolutely stunning.”

 

“Oh there’s dancing!” Clara exclaimed wistfully, staring at the couples gathering on a polished wooden dance floor that the workmen were hastily trying to set up while a troop of musicians quickly set up their instruments on the stage to the excited chatter of the gathered crowd. 

 

“I know I’m not who you’d prefer,” Harry murmured to Clara as he held out a hand. “But may I have this dance, Miss. Oswald?”

 

Clara stared at him in surprise, in the time that she’d known Harry he’d come across as taciturn and solemn, not as a man who enjoyed neither dancing nor frivolity and so she felt justified in her shock. Nonetheless she really wanted to dance as a neo-traditional waltz was struck up by the harried musicians on the metal stage and so she took his hand with a gracious grin and Harry spun her on to the dance floor with elegant grace and smiled broadly.

 

“Perhaps seeing me dance with you, he will get up the courage to ask you.” Harry said idly, scanning the area for danger; no matter the occasion he always found himself wary and cautious of his surroundings. Particularly if they were new; nearly thirty years and he still felt as though he was on a war footing. It was extremely tiring.

 

Clara stared at him in surprise, “what are you on about?”

 

“If you have to ask me, then you are surely the most oblivious woman I have met.” Harry murmured, spinning her around him carefully, his eyes skating over the Doctor’s stunned and mulish form a pout on those wide lips and a frown furrowing his brow. “He’s quite taken with you Clara; you’re his Impossible Girl, he doesn’t give all his companions monikers, only those who matter most to him.”

 

Clara blinked in surprise as she was handed over to a new partner, the dance having changed to a rousing number from the 24th century that had been designed to integrate new communities and colonies in the most basic way possible; through dancing. 

 

The Doctor watched his companions laugh and cheerfully greet the strangers they were dancing with, a frown furrowing his brow in consternation, for whatever reason he felt most displeased by this turn of events; he wanted to dance with them both, although he doubted that Viridian, who claimed to still be married despite his wife being long-since dead, would approve of this desire. Clara on the other hand would surely want to dance with him, she did so love to dance, he’d noticed that on more than one occasion whenever they were in a new place with music; her eyes would linger just a little too long on the other dancers, her eyes wistful and her smile fond. 

 

Harry looked over at the Doctor and sighed in exasperation at the aliens longing expression and with a deferring smirk, passed his current partner onto the nearest gentleman and bounded over to the Doctor, his black robe swirling about his knees impressively the silver etching dancing in the firelight. “Come dance with us Time Boy.” Harry laughed, in too good a mood to worry about the supposed 21st century social conventions that he was breaking. He loved the Doctor, certainly, but not in a romantic manner; he was married after all, happily so. 

 

The Doctor started at the too-familiar form of address and yelped as warm strong hands pulled him onto the dance floor and twirled him about like he was a girl and his wide hazel eyes caught the sight of Viridian’s own green laughing at him as they moved to the beat of an old English pop song that many would no longer remember and that Clara and Harry were intimately familiar with. Clara watched her two friends dancing, the Doctor apparently quite embarrassed and Viridian unconcerned with the picture they were portraying, and she laughed loudly and long, exulting in a rare free and happy moment in between the travel and danger and loved every second of it.

 

“Don’t call me time boy!” The Doctor scolded Harry, memories of a loud redheaded woman crowding his head painfully.

 

Harry cocked an eyebrow and smirked, “or what, Time Boy?” He breathed, his green eyes laughing at the time lord across from him; missing the pained expression and the tight line of his jaw. 

 

“Donna called you that, you told us all about her; the redhead who never took anything lying down.” Clara added as she spun into Harry’s arms, her partner having noticed her preoccupation and deciding to cut his losses short. “So why can’t we?”

 

The Doctor stared at his companions in surprise, he’d forgotten that he had told Clara and Harry about Donna, Martha and Rose; although he’d yet to speak of River, Amy or Rory, it was too soon and hurt too much to mention. “I-” the Doctor stammered, grasping for a reason while trying to avoid their smirking faces.

 

Harry smirked, noticing the Doctor’s discomfort and laughed loudly, Clara joining in with abandon causing the Doctor to grin sheepishly. “Ah, the Doctor, a thousand years old and just as foolish as we humans are!” Harry chortled in amusement.

 

“Oi!” The Doctor protested, following Clara off the dance floor while Harry propped the younger woman up and sniggered in amusement with her. “I am not foolish!”

 

“You kinda are, Doctor.” Clara denied, still grinning.

 

The Doctor pouted unhappily before spotting a stall filled with yellow fruits and yelped in excitement: “Banana’s!”

 

“Are a good source of potassium!” Harry and Clara chorused together before bursting out into hysterical laughter once more. Really, the Doctor could be so predictable sometimes. The Doctor scowled at his companions as he got the feeling he was being laughed at, and not in a nice way either.

 

“Oh don’t look so sad, Doctor, it’s cute, really.” Clara smirked while Harry attempted to straighten his features into a semblance of solemnity.

 

The Doctor straightened his bow tie in pleasure and grinned cockily, “I am rather, aren’t I?” He mused without modesty to Clara’s bemusement and Harry’s amusement. “Cute and cool, that’s me!”

 

The Doctor never could figure out why that sent Harry and Clara into gales of laughter once more.

 

**X**

 

“Oh Merlin!” Harry groaned spotting the red headpiece instantly drawing Clara’s distracted attention. “Don’t let him see!” Harry pointed out the fez to Clara who groaned in dismay. 

 

“Oh, trust me, I won’t be telling him at all!” She muttered fervently; no matter what the Doctor claimed, fezzes were not cool, not in the least!

 

“Shame we can’t stop him wearing bow ties as well.” Harry mused as he followed the Doctor through the market place, the time lord dancing from stall to stall with childlike abandon. 

 

Clara turned to stare at her friend in amusement. “Like you can talk, you wear a robe!”

 

“It reminds me of home.” Harry replied, shrugging.

 

“Home?” Clara asked curiously despite knowing that Harry would never answer her, Harry and the Doctor were very similar in that neither talked about their pasts much; or, if they did it was never about the important things that had sent them running in the first place. Only the Doctor spoke of the Time War where he had burned Gallifrey and his people, the Time Lords; Viridian only ever stated that there had been a war, not what or who he had fought nor what or who he had lost. It was worse than pulling teeth.

 

“Not here.” Was all Harry said of the topic before gasping in shocked pleasure and darting over to a cake stall and fishing out a couple of gold coins that served as currency on Titan Three. “Three slices!” Harry exuberantly exclaimed to the stall owner, pointing at the treacle tart that occupied a large portion of the table space. 

 

“Treacle tart, seriously?” Clara questioned in surprise. 

 

Harry shot her an incredulous glance, “it’s the best food in the universe!”

 

“It’s probably not even real treacle tart,” Clara pointed out to the stall holder’s displeasure. “This is the 74th century, who knows how different the recipe is now.”

 

Harry deflated slightly before perking up, “that just make it potential to be improved that much more likely!” He enthused excitedly, accepting the slices with extravagant enthusiasm. He picked up a slice and offered it to Clara with a cocky grin. “Care to try?”

 

Clara weighed up her options before grinning at Harry cheekily. “Why not, I trust the Doctor to avenge me if you kill me.” She laughed at Harry’s stunned expression, the noise drawing the Doctor over like a moth to an open flame. 

 

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously accepting the slice of tart that Harry pushing into his hands.

 

“Viridian’s trying to kill us,” Clara said easily, taking a bite out of the tart and humming in pleasure.

 

The Doctor started and glared at Harry, “what?!”

 

Harry held up his free hand as if trying to halt the Doctor’s anger. “Relax Doctor,” he soothed, “it’s just treacle tart!”

 

The Doctor faltered in confusion, his eyes flicking from each companion and back again. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Clara dismissed easily, finishing the last of her tart with a lick of her lips and grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him over to a jewellery stall and ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ah-ing’ over the expensive but tasteful pieces while Harry leant against a nearby pole and watched her, feeling as though he was back in Diagon Alley with Ginny watching his wife pick out Christmas presents for their children and grandchildren while he patiently waited through the entire torturous experience.

 

“Viridian?” 

 

Clara’s voice broke through his reminiscent fugue and drew his attention, and lost as he had been in memories he answered her as he would Ginny: “Yes, dear?” He turned his green eyes upon Clara’s surprised expression and quickly reviewed his words before silently groaning. “Sorry I-”

 

“Its fine, you must miss her.” Clara brushed off his apology with a gentle smile while the Doctor stared between the pair with increasing jealousy. It was rare that he was ignored in favour of another man, Rose, Martha and Amy had all paid him more attention than all their respective boyfriends and spouses. Well, Martha hadn’t but that was because Martha hadn’t been dating during the time that they had travelled together; and Amy might have grown out of that… But Rose definitely had paid more attention to him than Mickey the Idiot… And the Doctor wasn’t entirely certain if that should be as flattering as it felt.

 

“I do.” Harry murmured a wealth of hurt and pain in his voice and the Doctor felt whatever jealousy he felt shrivel up and die within his breast as he realised that Viridian and Clara were so close because they had both suffered debilitating losses and both felt intensely responsible for the sorrow they experienced each day. 

 

Sighing, the Doctor wrapped an arm around each companion’s shoulder and gave them a broad grin causing the pair to exchange nervous glances, “guess what I found?”

 

Harry felt a pained expression cross his face, the feeling the Doctor evoking much akin to the knowledge that a train was about to crash and there was little he could do about it. A sense of inevitability filling him as the Doctor grinned with such enthusiasm. “Do I want to know?”

 

The Doctor shot Harry a smug grin and pointed at a nearby stall where a brilliantly red fez sat on top of a manikin. “I found a fez!”

 

Harry and Clara groaned in concert and spoke at the same time: “You know, one day you could walk past a fez!”

 

“Never gonna happen!” The Doctor exclaimed bounding over to the stall owner and quickly putting the fez on, clearly oblivious as to how ridiculous he looked. “What do you think?” He asked excitedly.

 

“You look ridiculous!” Harry sighed as Clara shook her head and groaned: “Fezzes are not cool!”

 

**X**

 

This was never supposed to happen, the Doctor grumbled as he stared at the angry human that was seated on a gaudy gold throne, Clara and Viridian chained to a nearby column, the white marble gleaming dully in the early morning light. How was he supposed to know that the curfew for foreigners was midnight? The last time he’d been here there had been no such thing! Wars, they ruined everything!

 

“Let them go!” The Doctor demanded of the Marquis of Titan Three.

 

“You are in no position to demand anything, Doctor-Man!” The Marquis snarled as he glared at the arrogant time lord in front of him; Harry squirmed in his restraints, his magic loosening the binds and silently working on the archaic locks that held them fast. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a traveller!” The Doctor complained. “I’ve already explained this to your goons!”

 

“Doctor, now’s not a good time to aggravate our captors!” Clara shouted, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Despite her predicament she truly believed in the Doctor and his ability to save her. After all, he’d promised to catch her; always. 

 

Harry barked out an incredulous laugh as with a ‘ping’ the locks snapped and released Clara and him from their binds. Clara fell to the floor in dumbfounded shock as Harry strode forth, anger building in his gut at their treatment at the hands of their fellow humans. The Doctor, recognising that expression for what it was – _murderous_ – leapt forwards to intervene, forgetting in his haste, Clara’s own situation.

 

“Stop!” The Marquis roared angrily. “Or she dies!”

 

Harry spun around, dread pooling in his gut as he spotted Clara being held at gun point by a guard; he let out a hissed exclamation, the words not dissimilar to parseltongue. “Let her go!” He growled green eyes burning as he spun once more to face the Marquis.

 

“Or what?” The Marquis mocked, unconcerned. “You’ll try to kill me?”

 

“I can kill you before your man pulls his trigger!” Harry snapped angrily, he was not going to lose another person to his stupidity; not after Ginny, not after James, Al and Lily, not after everything he had suffered; never again.

 

“You lie!” The Marquis denied, a doubt blooming into life in his mind like a tenacious weed; sure he had never seen anyone capable of such a thing, but these three were unknowns. Who knew what they were capable of?

 

“Let us leave, peacefully mind, and you won’t have to find out.” Harry growled with quiet threat.

 

The Marquis frowned and contemplated the strange green eyed man’s offer while watching the Doctor-Man with the bow-tie flex his hands in ineffectual nervousness; clearly both men would do everything they could to save the woman and neither were truly worth the effort expended in imprisoning them. Perhaps it would be best to let them leave after all.

 

“It shall be done.” The Marquis decided, never feeling the silent compulsion affecting his weak human mind, compelling him to allow the three strangers to leave. The guards who had been watching the proceedings blinked in surprise but also relief, none wanted to test the dangerous green-eyed man who held himself with the self-assured confidence of one who had seen a lot of action. There was no need to fight, not against him.

 

The Doctor nearly fell over in relief as Clara was shoved into his arms and Harry led the way from the red marble hall towards the TARDIS that awaited them on the city’s outskirts. Clara stumbled along behind the men in a daze, shock having flooded her system the moment she had been released from the guards confining arms. If she was never in that situation again it would be too soon. The Doctor snapped his fingers and stumbled into the TARDIS, Harry following close behind on his heels while Clara paused to lean against the doors, breathless and exhausted, comforted by the faint thrum of the TARDIS beneath the sensitive pads of her fingers. 

 

Harry was leaning against the console breathing heavily when he heard it, a soft ‘pop’ that filled him with dread and without thought, flung himself once more from the TARDIS’ console room, the Doctor staring after him in surprise. Harry paused at the sight that greeted him, the guard who had been restraining Clara held the arm of another guard who was armed with a futuristic gun; the tip smoking slightly that spoke louder than words that the gun had been the origin of the soft popping noise he had heard. Clara was standing in front of him and he watched in horror as she fell in slow motion to the ground, her brown hair falling like a curtain about her face as she landed on the palm of her hands a loud groan ripped from her throat.

 

“Clara!” Viridian shouted, shocking the Doctor as he fiddled with the console inside the TARDIS. Sprinting outside the Doctor was greeted with the sight of Clara, his Impossible Girl prostrate on the ground with Viridian kneeling above her his hands slippery with crimson blood a shocked expression upon his face as he stared down at her, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.

 

“Clara!” The Doctor yelped throwing himself beside Harry and patting at her shoulder where the bullet had lodged.

 

Harry felt a fury unknown to him bloom like white hot heat in his chest and a film of red covered his field of vision. He stood up and stared at the two guards, his expression a terrible mask of rage. “What have you done?” He whispered in a voice like death.

 

“I didn’t mean to!” The guard gibbered, shocked beyond belief at the sight of previously green eyes glowing like scarlet coals in a face filled with white hot fury. It was a terrible sight to behold. “Please, I’m sorry!”

 

“Sorry?!” Harry snarled in a tongue near to parseltongue, the ‘s’ drawn out in a parody of a lovers caress. “You think _sorry_ can fix this?!”

 

“Please!” The guard whimpered his companion closing his eyes as the inevitability of their situation became abundantly clear. Nothing could excuse the other man’s actions and he knew without a single doubt that they would die here and now. He prayed that his wife and children wouldn’t miss him too much and that his son wouldn’t be forced to work the fields like his father had. “Please!”

 

Harry’s mouth twisted into a mouth of contempt and disgust as he raised a hand, barely aware of the Doctor picking Clara up in his arms and standing beside him, hazel eyes intent on what he was doing without judgement and more than a little bit of encouragement. “ _Avada Kedavra!!_ ” Harry hissed, his rage a palpable and almost sentient thing in the air around him and a jet of green light engulfed the guard responsible for Clara’s injury lifting the man up like a rag doll and tossing him high into the air. 

 

The second guard shivered as red eyes landed on him, silently assessing him for any trespasses and then turned him away, clearly uninterested in killing him. 

 

“Remove yourself and know that your life is granted on the proviso that you live it well and kindly; do not allow such cruelty to survive.”

 

The surviving guard nodded rapidly and watched in silent awe as the TARDIS dematerialised in front of him; leaving him quite alone on a deserted street on Titan Three with a tale no one would believe.

 

**X**

 

The Doctor knelt over Clara’s failing body, her beautiful eyes staring up at him in incomprehension, the light quickly fading from those brown orbs. Beside him Viridian clasped her hand, his own hand glowing as it rested upon her bleeding shoulder, an expression of frustrated guilt upon his face. Above them the TARDIS wheezed and groaned as she rematerialised somewhere safe, her steady thrumming a poignant counterpoint as her dislike of Clara waned in the face of her Doctor losing yet another companion to cruel circumstance. 

 

“I can heal her-” Harry’s words broke the split silence like an axe splits wood and the Doctor started in shock and newly revived hope.

 

“ _How?!”_ The Doctor demanded his voice a rasping hiss.

 

“Magic, science- whatever you want to call it; but know that I can heal her for a price.” Harry said his own voice rough with emotion.

 

“Price?!” The Doctor snarled angrily. “You want payment for saving her life?!”

 

“No!” Harry snapped. “There will be a price for my healing her; there is always a price, Doctor and the question is, not can I heal her, but are you willing to pay the price?”

 

“Yes, anything, anything at all; just save her; heal her!” The Doctor rasped desperately, his eyes pleading the wizard to do _something_ for Clara; to make her well again. “Please!”

 

Harry nodded sharply, reservation and doubt welling in his mind but like a true Gryffindor, disregarded both and lay one hand across Clara’s breast and the other across her abdomen, fingers digging like claws into her soft skin and wet clothing. “ _Confervo integro sano!!_ ”

 

It was like a jolt of rapid warmth down his arms through his fingers and pooling underneath Clara’s skin and a white light built in a steady pulsing glow to surround both Harry and Clara and before the Doctor’s very shocked eyes the skin began to knit together. The bullet squirmed its way out of the bullet hole and pinged across the console room floor while a fresh wave of blood spilled from the open wound and the Doctor let out a startled oath. Harry ignored everything around him, instead focussing his every thought upon Clara as he chanted in Latin, healing the small wound that had been cauterised by the overheated bullet; making the healing process that little bit harder. 

 

Harry’s magic, already so much stronger than it had been thirty years ago, coursed along Clara’s nerves, veins and muscles; cleaning and healing as it did so. Harry had noted, as all wizards were able, that his magic had drastically changed in the thirty years he had lived in this dimension; warping into an almost sentient being that now cost him even more energy to cast successfully. It was as though his magic was intrinsically linked to his soul and now cost him his life to continue casting and Harry was terrified that one day he would overdraw his magic and end up killing himself. Nonetheless, as the Doctor had once observed, Clara was the very best of all humanity could offer and that it would be a true tragedy if she was lost or died. 

 

Harry sagged backwards, his hands dropping to his sides as the white glow faded and Clara’s eyes, which had at some stage fallen shut, shot open and she drew in a gasping breath; lungs expanding rapidly as she flailed back into consciousness. Harry suspected, as he felt his energy levels drop to a critical level, that he had actually pulled her back across the point of no return. Not that he regretted anything and as he watched the Doctor kiss every inch of Clara’s face in stunned relief even as he wept for what had almost been, he smirked in triumph and self-congratulations. 

 

“How did you do that?” The Doctor asked his whey faced companion in shock.

 

Harry grinned hazily and sighed. “Spoilers,” he winked.

 

“No!” The Doctor scowled as he clung to a struggling Clara who was attempting to sit up right. “Tell me!”

 

“I’d love to,” Harry sighed and a smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m afraid that the price must be paid.” 

 

The Doctor watched in shock as Harry’s eyes rolled backwards in his skull and he keeled over backwards, slumping against the cold metal of the console room floor, the harsh lighting casting a blue light across his sharp features.

 

“Viridian!” Clara exclaimed, slipping free of the Doctor’s hands and checking her friend’s pulse. “He’s alive!”

 

The Doctor blinked in relieved surprise and stared in disbelieving shock between his Impossible Girl and the man who he still had no idea about. Just who was Viridian really?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we both remember this is an Unfinished WIP (writing in progress) that will be updated.. sporadically at best. Apologies for that. I hope you enjoyed the tale nonetheless.


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